The King Of Hearts
by creamtea-with-a-madman
Summary: When Sherlock changes schools once again, he discovers the meaning of feelings and the importance of a 'friend' or whatever the heck that is. He begins to fall in love, but how to deal with that? And will John ever see the light? Join the two idiots on their search for love and learn more about weird pubertals, a fellow madman and the case he' s so willing to crack AU/Teenlock CASE
1. Chapter 1: introduction

**Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC adaptation of Sherlock, Arthur Conan Doyle, Benedict Cumberbatch, Martin Freeman, Mark Gatiss and not even Steven Moffat. If I did, the whole world would praise me for making Johnlock become real.**

Like a squirrel Molly started rattling about this and that, the latest news in fashion, gossip or whatever else there was roaming the St. Bartholomew school. Apparently the hottest gossip at the moment was that a boy had dyed his hair pink and anyone who called themselves cool were wondering if the boy was gay and picking on him to as it seemed 'clear the school of faggots'. Sherlock wasn't one of them. And he wasn't amused or happy either.

All he had wanted was to get into the school-lab and now he was stuck here with this insane girl, who was giving him her best braced smile. Absolutely sickening.

"And then this one boy, Greg was his name, I think, he said that-"

"Yes all _very _interesting, Molly." Which came out as a snarl."Could you please show me the lab one single time before my stupid class-trip abides?"

"Yes, well. If you say so-"she said, chastising herself. "Pretty upfront for a newbie, eh?"

"May be." Sherlock said, stepping into the lab as if it was his kingdom. "Finally" He let out a long breath.

"What do you want in here anyway?"

"Oh, just checking on things, this and that."

"Well, as much as I have gathered from you, you aren't really a 'this and that' man, are ya?"

"No."

"Tell me about it. More."

"I just have to-" He sighed, he couldn't do this. "No!"

"Why not? What is there to lose?"

My dignity. "Oh nothing, could you just, uh leave?"

"What?" She spit out. "No, I'm not going to leave- and that especially not now, thank you very much."

Ah god, who was this girl? It was bad enough that Sherlock had to remember her name at the minute; he would have to delete that. But the air of daftness that surrounded this woman was almost as thick as a wall.

"Okay, Molly: out. I need some me-time, mind-palace, okay?"

By the time Molly replied, she was already out of the door and there was no trace of the strange, new boy left. The only thing she could hear was the sound of keys turning in the door. Superb.

* * *

The rain was streaming down the windows of their coach while a happy song filled the yet empty seats with music. The atmosphere was buzzing and John was holding hands with his girlfriend, Lisa. Drop-dead gorgeous, beautiful, wonderful Lisa. Nothing and no one could compare.

A bit of her hair loosened out of her bun and flattered her face, her every move guided by a brown, soft, perfect string of hair. Lisa smiled at him, her wicked smile that she knew he loved so much. Her eyes twinkled with a warm glow. She made him fall more in love with her every second.

Suddenly their bus made another halt and stood still at another stop to pick up a few other students. Every stop was interesting to John as he then was introduced to the students of his new class, which he had maybe only ever seen once before and if so only curtly.

They could have all met in the classes, but nobody came around there anyway. It was the first week and all they did was preparing for their school-trip, hello? He had better things to do. And the others seemed to as well.

John mustered his fellow students from his seat, not really welcoming the outcome. There was Bill, who everyone just knew as the rowdy of the school and who was probably one of the most disagreeable students of all. Then there was Kristen, the one with the tons of make-up and the faked smile. And to sum it up there was Justin, whose name said everything about him.

But afterwards there came another one, a boy. His tall and lanky figure over towered everyone else's, but looking at his immersed composure, he seemed to be the smallest of them all.

He swiftly, but quietly sank into his seat, not saying one word. A simple' hello' would have done the job. John sighed. This guy was hopeless.

Who was he anyway? He had never seen or heard from him before and as everyone was talking about everyone; his name would have fallen at least once or twice. However nothing about the boy made something in his mind come close to a 'Eureka' moment. A newbie? Possibly.

John was fascinated but he didn't know what to think about him. Well, they should see to that later.

* * *

Sherlock fell into his seat not even trying to look at the other's faces. He would become acquainted with them soon enough. More probably their fists. He cringed inwardly.

Sherlock had given up on social interactions a long time ago, since he was a little child, actually. The others had never really liked the gangly, pale boy and when he started to rattle off his deductions in want of impressing them, his anti-popularity only got worse. And so his social standard went from already bad to inferior.

This place wouldn't be any better either, but Mycroft had insisted that he come here and at least give it a try. It would be hell on earth.

Sherlock heard a muttered sigh in the seat after his, most likely due to his social incompetence. Let them sigh, he didn't mind. They would be familiar with his face soon enough.

The aching boy closed his eyes, which dulled his headache at least a bit. Lying there, he tried not to think of yesterday, the day before or any other day in the past. His father had really done his homework.

Maybe he could find some sleep, one single time. Away from home, his parents far, far gone. Maybe he could. Maybe. He-

* * *

The bus was now full and there were no stops to be made except the occasional break for certain needs, including the loo and the consumption of food. This was one of these stops, but Sherlock didn't even think about those options. He may not have eaten something for quite some time, but if he ate, he would need to see the toilet. And in toilets some people may feel the urge of social interaction. This was not at all in his desire.

He never left his seat and the only thing he did to keep himself occupied was staring out of the window and blinking. Very interesting. But he had a whole lot to think about.

"Uhm... are you ok there?" A voice called from his left.

He didn't move an inch.

"Oh, it's just that I- well, I didn't even see you breathe; you looked a little bit, dead? "

"That's because I am." He replied, not honouring his conversational partner with one glance. "If I were you, I'd better stay away from me. It wouldn't essentially do you good to be seen with me."

"What do you mean with that?"

"Oh, you will see soon enough." Sherlock said, his mind focusing on its old task once again.

"I'm John by the way."

Sherlock sighed and averted his eyes to the figure that just didn't want to give up. What he saw was quite astonishing.

A muscular frame stood on the floor of the coach, accompanied by golden, sandy hair and a face to growl. If there was a heaven, this John would be an angel. He shook his head; he knew he wouldn't ever stand a chance. And what had happened to being asexual?

And alas, this boy already had a girlfriend, as it seemed. The lip-stick traces were too evident. Nothing ever worked out, did it?

"You wouldn't want to know my name."

"Well, actually I would. Is it so terrible?" John laughed.

"The name's Sherlock Holmes."

John's ringing laughter could be heard throughout the whole bus. Sherlock shouldn't get his hopes up; John was just like everyone else.

* * *

The only thing that this strange Sherlock-kid did after was looking out of the window and nothing else. He didn't reply to, or even notice John's other failed attempts at speaking to him. This guy was just plain weird. He looked at you as if you were his prey and his eyes rapidly flickered from one thing to another, never stopping or relaxing for one second. It must be hell to be that guy.

But you had to say that he didn't look too bad for a man. He must be in every girl's dirty dreams, without that odd personality though. That would need a lot of accustoming to. But that voice...

God, what was he thinking? John shushed the little gay voice in his head and tried to concentrate on Lisa again. Good, old Lisa. She would never change.

* * *

Hallelujah! This was their last stop. They finally were at their destination.

Sherlock looked out of the window and waited for everyone else to take their leave, before he could leave this rotten bus. The scenery could be called beautiful by anyone, except for Sherlock. There was a little lake next to their huts in which the orange sky was glittering like an orange. Yuck!

The lake was complemented by a huge willow and other trees that spread out over the entire scenery .The hills in the back were in the perfect shape and covered in sheep. How boring.

Couldn't they have gone to another country? Even Scotland would have succeeded. But no, now they spent their time in another part of England, thrilling.

Eventually he would get out of this bus. But eventually took it's time.

* * *

John stepped out of the bus and had only one thought in mind: wow! This place was gorgeous. The same could sadly not be told about their assembly hall in which they would eat and exercise. It was just one block of building with no decorations, nothing. The place was strict and cold. Not to his taste.

There their class-tutor Mrs. Hudson soon clapped her hands together and let all the students get together. In next to no time she started to say out the names of the students, who by now became anxious. No surprise if you didn't know anyone.

John knew that he would most likely be sorted with Greg as they had been mates since forever.

"Bill, Tom and Linus please."

But he didn't know who his third mate would probably be.

"Liana, Kristen and Sonja."

Hopefully not Justin.

"Greg, John and... wait what is this?" Mrs. Hudson said, her bad eyes getting the better of her.

John would murder if it was that Justin-fella.

"Oh and Sherlock Holnes, apparently."

John tried to hold back a giggle. This Holmes had really sucked with that name.

Sherlock stepped into the group and teamed up with John and Greg. He looked absently away from them and into a corner of the room, the emptiest one of all. John wondered what he was thinking about.

"Holnes, is that right?" She asked.

"No, ACTUALLY it is **Holmes.**" He snapped.

The class sniggered.

"Yes. There it commences." He muttered to himself, loud enough for John to hear.

This guy was the weirdest thing John had ever seen.

Which made him all the more exciting.


	2. Chapter 2: A mad-man at best

**Disclaimer: I don't and never will own Sherlock or anything relating to it. *sniff***

**Please R&R and have fun while reading! :) I didn't get any response as of yet and was wondering if I should carry on with this little piece of work or not. Please tell me what you think! **

**As I said, enjoy!**

* * *

"So, uhm, who are you?"

"Sherlock Holmes, as you may have heard."

"No, I mean, tell me about yourself. Where do you come from? What is your family like? These kinds of things, you know." Greg said, slightly irritated.

'These kinds of things' were the things Sherlock dreaded the most. He didn't want people to know about him, his personality, his family or even better, if he would miss his 'friends'. Ha-ha. Good joke.

"Oh, this is just tedious. Do you really want to spend your day with something as stupid as small-talk? I bid you."

"Uhm, yeah... ac-"

"Unimportant."

"Why are you so mean, man?" John asked, just getting done with unpacking his suitcase.

"Well, it's because, because..." Because she is dead. Because there was nothing left for him to live for. Because he couldn't escape. Because...

"Oh, it's just, I-" Sherlock said, a little tear fighting its way up to his eyes.

"Nothing." He finished and stared a hole into the wall. He had to leave.

"Laters!" He said sarcastically and left. The door slammed shut.

Greg and John tuned to each other, exchanging looks.

"Really? Who is that guy?"

"No idea." John shook his head.

"A mad-man at best."

* * *

Sherlock situated himself against the old willow, seeking its comfort. The leaves flew into the lake like feathers and made Sherlock wish that he was one of them. As they fell into the water and drowned, his wish only strengthened.

He laid his head against the aged wood, breathing in its scent. Warm and welcome. So unlike home.

The sky clouded, but Sherlock didn't stir. Let it rain, what did it matter. He couldn't get wetter.

* * *

The rain was still showering the world as Greg heard a growl coming from his left.

"What is it now, John?"He shouted.

The only reply he got was a long-drawn sigh and soon a few trampled steps.

"Sorry, I didn't _quite_ understand?" Greg mocked.

"He's still out there, Sherlock I mean. Just look outside, it storms like shit. "John said, putting on his shoes.

"You're right we shouldn't leave him like that." Greg sighed, imitating John and picking up his jacket.

"Even if he's an idiot."

They opened the door and were almost torn to the ground by the wind's abnormal force. This should be fun.

They searched the whole place up and down, but Sherlock was nowhere to be found. John and Greg knew that it was way after their bed-time, but they couldn't just let the man freeze to death. Even if a little part of Greg's brain wanted to.

They quickly reached the lake screaming out Sherlock's name, but it was of no use. Had the guy just vanished?

"Sherlock? Sherlock! She- She-, She- SHEEEEEEERLOOOOOCK! SHEEEER-"

"Greg, stop it. Look!" John said, pointing at a little silhouetted figure in the distance.

So they ran.

And they found. But it was nothing good.

Sherlock lay there with his eyes closed and his muscles spasming because of the freezing cold. His hair was wet and messy, but there was a look of contempt in his face. However, when John felt his pulse it was very, very slow and almost non-existing. He was so cold. And Sherlock took this all with a smile.

"We should get him back home, well... into the hut." John said; sweat and rain dripping off of his frown.

"We should."

* * *

John looked at the still freezing man in his bed and wondered. Wondered about what? You may ask. Well, how all of this could have happened in the first place. How he could just have fallen asleep and not notice. And John felt guilty. Guilty for not noticing earlier. Guilty for not going after him.

"Coold-d." Sherlock freezed and John slapped himself mentally. He had left Sherlock in his still-wet clothes.

He picked up an old pyjama of his, as Sherlock's suitcase was as existent as John's intelligence and could not be found.

"Shush, Sherlock. We will have to get you into the pyjama, hm? Warmer."

"Yess, warmer. Good."

John tried to make Sherlock stand up and after a few failed attempts managed to do so. He started to unbutton said's shirt and trousers and after a while Sherlock tuned in as well. When John had dealt with it, he grabbed his pyjama, turned back to Sherlock and- Fuck!

What? Was? That?

Violet, red and blue welts covered most of Sherlock's body. A few were longer, others more faded out. And a few looked like they were already centuries old. This guy must have been beat up ever since the fragile age of 10. And what was he now? Maybe 16. 6 years of this shite!

Nonetheless something on Sherlock's skin peeked John's interest once more. Parallel wounds crowded the younger man's skin, especially on the region of his arms. They were thin and long, too thin to have come from a belt or a riding-crop. And too long and many to have appeared by accident. So there was only one option. Self-harm.

This chap was even more messed up than he had thought. What should John do? Sherlock had to be helped, or else he would maybe go as far as-

"John?" Sherlock moaned.

"Yes Sherlock? Do you want anything? Tea, drink, food?"

"No, I don't-I"

"Maybe another blanket?"

"No, I- is there pussibel... pisselib... peussebilit..."

"Possibility?"

Sherlock made a committal grunt. "Yeah, possibil... that you will not?"

"What not?"

"Not tell parents please- about wet, they angry. Espec- Father!" Sherlock said the image of his father haunting his brain.

"Shush, you're fine here, alright? No one can hurt you. You're fine." John tried to calm Sherlock down, which aided more himself than Sherlock.

"An' John?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you please- clothes? Feel a bit naked."

Now John was really on the verge of hitting himself. How could he possibly forget?


	3. Chapter 3:the beginnings of a friendship

**Disclaimer: I don't own, yadda, yadda, yadda.**

**This chapter is a bit too long, but I hope you won't mind. **

** Please seat yourself comfortably, drink tea and at best conditions be wrapped up in a blanket. But over all, enjoy!**

* * *

**2 days later **

"John. I am _much_ better now, can you please-?" Sherlock asked, sitting up in bed, John in a chair opposite of him.

"Sherlock... "John sighed, not wanting to go through this mess again. "As I said, you're still hotter than you should be, you'll have to stay in bed to not endanger anyone else, understood?"

"And what about you?"

"Me? What?"

"Are you endangered by my hotness?"

"No, Sherlock, I didn't mean it that way, god!" John sighed once again.

Sherlock's stoic expression turned into a toothed grin and he did as much as he could not to point and laugh at John's face, which looked like he had bitten into a lemon.

"Do I look that bad?" Sherlock asked, imitating big-foot in a grimace.

"No, it's not that, it's just-" John couldn't hold it together either. "Your face!"

"Look at yours, you fish!"

They soon stood in their hut laughing their arses off and if Sherlock wasn't in bed, he would probably be rolling on the floor laughing.

Maybe this John isn't even that bad, he pondered.

"John?" He asked. "May I ask you something?"

"Yeah?"

"Could we possibly, well. " He fidgeted. "- Become something like- fri- not strangers?"

"Wha- You mean friends?"

"Uhm, yeah?" A silence followed. "Does that bother you much?"

"Uh, no. That's alright." That was the strangest way of becoming friends he had ever heard. But he was okay with it. This Sherlock was interesting. Not like everyone else. "Nice, actually."

"Can I ask you something in return?"

"If you wish..." Sherlock muttered, he hated answering questions.

"Well, I saw your arms or more so your body yesterday and I saw cuts and many of them and why?" John murmured.

"What cuts?" Sherlock asked innocently.

"These." John said, opening Sherlock's sleeves and letting Sherlock's bare skin in view.

"Go easy, lover-boy. These were for experiments." He said and looked John dead in the eyes.

"You're a good liar."

"I'm not-"

"Don't protest."

"I don't want to, to tell you." Sherlock begged.

"You will have to!" John said and eyed Sherlock earnestly.

Sherlock took a long desperate breath before saying: "It's my parents and my little sister, who is you know..."

"Dead?"

"Yeah, but not only that... bullying, you know. It has been a bitch, as you lot would say."

"But I wouldn't say that bullying has been a bitch, I would say that the bullies are the bitches." John said, looking at Sherlock in empathy.

"Oh, don't be like that."

"Like what?"

"Apologetic, that's the worst kind of person you can have to endure. Please just treat me like everyone else, alright?"

" Sure." This guy was strong, stronger than even John. If he were in that situation he would have most likely killed himself.

"Don't think I haven't thought of that. I'm not a hero. I am weak."

"Whoa, can you read minds?"

"Well, it was obvious what you thought, you could read it easily."

"How so?"

"Let's not start with that, you will only think me weird."

"No, I won't, please?"

"If you insist. Your pupils dilated in an instant, when you heard, your fingers spreaded. Your neck strained and you shivered barely noticeable to the average human eye. Not to ignore your face, which went blank the second you heard and the pained expression which reached your face almost immediately after. Enough to go on, wouldn't you think?"

"Yeah, that's how you noticed I was stressed, but how did you know I was thinking about death?" John asked curiously and still a little bit agitated.

"Oh, ever since your Mom died and your sister became an alcoholic, you have been thinking about it a lot and were close to just pulling the trigger. In that exact moment your girlfriend, what's her name again?"

"Err... Lisa?"

" Yes, Lisa saved you from yourself and you became a lot better. But still you sometimes think about it and you'll never forget. There's still a hole to be filled. Am I right?"

"God, yeah- everything. Holy shit, that was amazing! I don't even want to know how you did that."

"Really... Do you think so? That's not what people usually say."

"What do they normally say?"

"Piss off!"

This was the longest time that Sherlock Holmes had ever laughed. And one of the first.

* * *

Mrs. Hudson hurried to Greg, Sherlock and John's hut, worrying about the new boy's health. As far as she had heard, he had taken poorly and was not in a fit state to stay. Let's see about that.

She knocked on the door rashly. "Boys!"

The only responses that reached her half-dead ears were the laughters of two boys. How dare they laugh at her!

"Boys! " She said more loudly now which seemed loud enough for the both of them to notice.

"Greg, you little fuck-head, what are-" John said, opening the door and then staring into infinity out of embarrassment.

"Oh, hello Mrs. Hudson." He said, wishing the ground would suck him whole.

"Can I come in?" She asked kindly, trying to act like nothing had happened.

"Oh, yeah naturally." John stated, obviously relieved.

"Where is Sher-? Ah, there he is." Mrs. Hudson uttered.

"Hello, Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock said, his face softening. "I'm fine."

"You don't look it, boy." She replied, putting her hands on his face. "God, you're burning."

"I really am fine!" Sherlock protested, but to no use.

"We should call his parents!" She exclaimed.

"Oh no, we shouldn't. They're... gone at the moment to, to what were they gone again?" John said, redirecting his question to Sherlock.

"Kuala Lumpur, I think. We won't be able to reach them for approximately 2 weeks." Sherlock answered, adding a quiet: "What a pity."

John gave an approving nod. He wouldn't have thought of that.

"Yes, well. We will keep you under close examination then. John, can you take care of that?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Good boy. You already missed breakfast, but I will fetch you some leftovers from the kitchen. This is the only time though; I am not your housekeeper!"

"Naturally, ma'am!"

"Good. See you in a bit!"

Sherlock waited until she was gone and then whispered: "Thank you, John."

"Appreciated."

* * *

Greg was wandering the beautiful grounds, when he heard a sudden yell. "Greg? Greg!" It came from behind. Greg turned round, facing his room-mate, John.

"Yes, John?" He said annoyed.

"Have you seen Lisa anywhere? I've been searching for her basically everywhere!" John sputtered, completely out of breath.

"Sorry, mate. Don't know anything." Greg said, scratching his forehead intelligently. "Although, I have heard she may be at the boy's"

"Boys?"

"Yeah, I think Raphael, Justin and the one with the freckles."

"Oh, you mean David? Alright. Thanks much!" John screamed after him, already taking his leave.

He reached the hut in up to no time and knocked on the door rapidly.

"Yes? Who is there?"

"It's me."

"And you are?"

"I'm John, John Watson."

"Oh hello, I'm David." David greeted, with a smile on his face. "Pleasure to meet you."

"You sound Scottish."

"That's because I –"

"David, who's on the door?" A voice called from inside.

"It's John Watson, you should get yourself some hearing aid, mate." David yelled back.

"Calm down, buddy!" Said said voice, the attached body now only standing metres away from John.

"And you are?" John asked curiosly.

"Oh, I'm Raphael. What are you doing here, exactly?"

"Oh, I'm searching for my girlfriend, have heard that she's with you?"

"Uhh, yeah, she is, but let's not-"

"Can I come in?" John interfered.

"Uh, If you have to." Raphael said pointing at the insides. "But make sure you don't stumble over anything, I wouldn't want that if I were you."

"Oh, don't be so rude." David smiled. "Allons-y!"

And so they went into the room, the room's natural scent covered by the flavour of stinking socks. "This could be very nice."

"Yeah, we should just clean it up a bit."

"So, where's Li-?" John asked, but his question was answered by the fragile figure sitting on one of the boy's beds. But wait, what was she doing?

Lisa sat there, flicking her hair and smiling at the boy, Justin, opposite of her. Their knees were almost touching and she wore her nicest skirt she knew. How dare she?

"Lisa, what the hell are you doing here?" John said, directing his question at Lisa, but giving Justin his best death-stare.

"Oh, I was just talking to Justin here, he's a nice fella." She said innocently.

"So nice then? Nicer than spending time with me?" John spit out.

"John, it wasn't meant like that, I can-"

"You can explain?" John laughed sadly. "You better damn well do."

"Look, Justin here, I-"

"God, I don't even want to know." John said shaking himself. "It's dinner- time already, anyway. I'll be going."

"John!" But he was already gone.

"Anger management." David said and shook his head.

"I'd say it was jealousy." Lisa sighed. "I better go after him."

* * *

"John?" Sherlock whispered into the darkness. He knew it was unusual, but Sherlock was still afraid of the dark. You never knew what monster would jump out of it.

The darkness was so near, able to suck him whole. "John?"

Remember Sherlock, the blade is only so far. You could just- No. No. No. No. Like a mantra he repeated it over and over again. He didn't want it. Especially not now. This trip shouldn't be spoiled by anything. And if John found out, he would go riot.

No.

* * *

"John?" Lisa shouted, running.

Don't hear you. I am not there. You aren't here either. John thought, like a mantra, walking to his hut, seemingly not noticing anything,

"John, I know you can hear me. John?"

John groaned; this was of no use. "Yeah, Lisa? "

"John. What is up with you lately?"

"Hm?" John said tensely.

"You spend almost all of your time with that strange boy and now you act so strangely, what is it?"

"Yeah, well you spend all of your time with a strange boy too, although his name isn't Sherlock Holmes."

Lisa sniggered.

"Don't laugh." John said, a serious expression covering his face. "What can you say to that?"

"That I am not cheating on you. I never would, don't you know that?" She said, uneasy.

" Yeah, I know. I know- I'm sor-"

She caught him in a hug. "Don't be. Just never forget." She smiled.

* * *

"Joh-?" Sherlock stopped, disgusted by what he saw. John stood there with that girlfriend of his, kissing the hell out of her. Drooling all over her.

Sherlock slammed the door shut. This was the last thing he had wanted to see. And he didn't know why it hurt.


	4. Chapter 4 : the tales of a hedgehog

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. There you go. **

**David... Doctor Who... *hint* *hint***

**Please R&R and thank you for your support. Feel free to ask me any questions/suggestions you !**

* * *

"Who's there?" muffled Sherlock, who didn't really want to be disturbed.

"It's me, David."

"I don't even know you."

"Can I come in?"

"If that's absolutely necessary. " He sighed.

"Man, you look horrible. Anything I can do to help?"

"No. I need John, but he's not there at the moment."

"Yeah, he seems to be off with his girlfriend, too obvious what they may be doing." David laughed and then whistled suggestively.

Sherlock cringed, his face imitating his brother's, which was bad enough.

"Oh." David said noticing. "You're like me then."

"I'm sure we don't have anything in common and I may hope so."

"No, I mean that..." David started to whisper. "... you're gay?"

"That's nothing of your concern. What are you doing here anyway?" Sherlock asked exasperatedly, he didn't want them here to know about his sexuality too. Maybe there was something of his dignity to save.

"Just checking if your alright or not. You seemed very miserable and you still look it." David said, pity written all over his face.

"Don't pretend you care for me."

"I do. Mate, we'll have to get along pretty well, as we're in a class now. And it's way easier this way. No complications, no worries. Alright?"

"Okay."

"Where's Greg?"

"Out. You may follow him there."

"Okay." David smiled. "Have a nice day."

"Yeah, drowning in a blanket."

David laughed, as he started to leave. "Tell this John he's lucky, you don't look half-bad."

Sherlock laughed sarcastically. "I have reliably been informed otherwise, thanks very much."

"Well, then they're wrong." Said David, smiling a last smile into Sherlock's direction. "See ya."

"Yeah, until then."

Sherlock had the sudden feeling that his class wouldn't be as bad as he had once thought. Maybe he would be able to get along.

* * *

"_Faggot!" "Freak!" "Where's your Victor now, hm?" "Yeah, where's your little boyfriend?" "Has he gone missing?" "Pity, maybe he was abducted?" "Kidnapped?"_

"_No, he's moved out!" cried Sherlock, near tears. _

"_Oh, he's left you all alone in the big, lonely world?" "Just like your sister." The class broke out into laughter. _

"_Leave my sister out of this!"_

Sherlock stirred in his bed, moaning in pain.

"_No, this is funny, freak." "Yeah, laugh freak. Laugh!" "Or I will put your head into the toilet again, do you remember, freak? Maybe I'll let you drown this time."_

_Sherlock laughed, but the laughter somehow turned into sobs in the end._

"_Does that count?" "Wouldn't say so." "Toilet?" "Toilet!" They laughed. _

_Sherlock screamed._

"Sherlock? Sherlock? Sherlock! Wake up!" John almost yelled at Sherlock.

Sherlock chocked, searching for air but not finding any.

"I'm here Sherlock, there's nothing to worry about. You're safe, you hear me- you're sa-"

Sherlock drowned once again.

* * *

The breakfast was arranged in the nicest of ways. Several plates with various sorts of bread, cheese, ham and jam stood there waiting to be consumed. The hall was enlightened by the bright sunlight and- I don't think I need to carry on. You seem to be a little annoyed by me already. I know you guys don't care for the surroundings, so let's get back down to business.

Greg stood by the side of John, mustering him amusedly.

"You two seemed to have fun yesterday, eh?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." John voiced, looking as far away as possibly. Luckily Lisa wasn't anywhere nearby.

"I think you know, exactly, what I'm talking about. In every. Last. Detail."

"Oh, stop it, Greg!" John said laughing. "Anyhow, where were you headed yesterday? Didn't really see you all day except the few seconds by the woods."

"Well, I strolled through the area a bit, met this and that guy."

"Anyone in particular?"

"Do you know David?"

"Yeah, he's quite a looker." John said, smirking at his friend.

"No, yeah, no-I mean, anyway-"

"Ooh, do I sense some romance?" John said putting his hands around his mouth in a tunnel and then yelling: "Yes, do I sense some romance?"

"Jesus, John! I'd be surprised if anyone didn't hear you, mate." Greg sighed but laughed. "We better go get us some food, I'm starving."

"Are you now? I didn't notice." John said, his own stomach grumbling in unison with Greg's. "God, I haven't eaten anything in ages. Let's go!"

Their plates were filled in next to no time and their bellies were filled even quicker. I will spare you their conversation; they were eating so noisily, the other students wouldn't have heard the siren if it had went off.

Let's just jump in a few minutes later:

"So, what do you think about this Sherlock-fella then? He seems a bit weird." Greg asked, stapling his fingers under his chin.

"No, no, don't say so, he has really heard enough of that. He may seem rude, but he had to go through a lot of trouble and still does, so please don't be too hard on him. Actually, he's quite a nice guy." John said, caring.

"If you say so."

"It would have been good, if you had been there yesterday night, though, Greg."

"Why?"

"Sherlock had some trouble sleeping and I had to be there for him all night. I did only sleep as much as one and a half hours. You would have been of some help." John shrugged. "He seemed pretty haunted."

"Sorry man, but he still has night-mares? " Greg roared with laughter. "You're not his Mom."

"Wait until you see him in that state. It's hell."

"But-"

"Literally." John stared at Greg judgingly.

"I-I'm sorry." Greg stammered; he hadn't ever seen John be so protective about anything.

"Besides, where did you spend your evening then?"

"Well, I smuggled myself into Raphael, Justin and David's hut, to, you know-"

"Be close to David?"

"Man, don't be so loud..." Greg shushed.

"I gotta go now anyway, to fetch Sherlock some food. He hasn't had much in the last couple of days and he doesn't even seem to want it. He has to eat something, you see?"

"You really are his mother." Greg shook his head.

* * *

"Boys and girls, please gather 'round." Mrs. Hudson smiled. "Thank you."

Sherlock stood there, in the hall, only so much as his light pyjama and a dressing gown covering his freezing body. This had been a very, very bad idea.

"So, there we are." Mrs. Hudson went on. "As you may have guessed, we will start with getting-to-know-each-other-games, alright?"

The students moaned as an answer. They knew this all too well.

"Well, at first we will all make a circle, so that everyone can see each other, understood?"

The students nodded and formed a circle, feeling like little children.

"Okay, then you choose a word that describes your left neighbour the best; just say whatever goes through your head. And no insults." Mrs Hudson disciplined the class.

This had really been a very, very bad idea. Sherlock's left partner was John. He knew many things that he could say about him, but nothing the class should ever witness.

Maybe good? No, too normal, too obvious. Perfect? No, no, no. Caring? Lord!

"Shall we begin?"

The class nodded and Sherlock shook his head vehemently. Shame.

"Alright, let's start with you, Anne?"

Sherlock's face went green. Anne was only a few students apart from him. He didn't want this, not at all! He didn't even have his mind made up.

"Sherlock, are you quite right?"John murmured.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm always fine..." Sherlock shook himself. This was not the moment to faint.

"Whatever." John shrugged.

"Kristen?"

The girl next to Sherlock sniggered. Why did god take so much pleasure in punishing him?

"Absolutely gorgeous." She continued giggling nervously.

Yes, why on earth did god punish him this much? However, it was a compliment at least. Although Sherlock didn't know if a compliment from this girl was something good, going by her looks.

"Well, that's two, but a good one, Sherlock?"

Already? "Erm... Hedgehog?"

The whole class broke out into roaring laughter. And Sherlock wanted to hide in a corner.

"A hedgehog, really Sher'?" John laughed until tears came into his eyes.

"You've got a point though; he is quite alike one of these little fatties." Greg inserted.

"Thanks very much." John smiled.

"Yeah, let's continue with..."


	5. Chapter 5: new beginning?

**Disclaimer: Argh! I don't care. I own Sherlock and profit from it, which makes me as rich as Bill Gates, or even richer. I sell souls.**

**Authorish things: I have just noticed that my last chapters were way too long and shitty. Do you think I cand just delete them and let the fanfiction start from here? What do you think? Then I could just cut out the thing about Sherlock cutting himself too, because I don't really want to carry on about that aspect. Please tell me. **

**From now on I will try my best to make this fanfiction as pleasurable and easy to read as possile. Please stay with me and give me some of your thouhts. Thank you!**

**I am happier with this chapter, so I hope you will enoy it as well as me. **

* * *

"Right, you can dissolve into your huts in any minute. But wait, you may have heard that we will have a night-walk this evening, so prepare for some suspense and that a few scary things may happen." Mrs. Hudson said, whispering sinisterly in the end.

"The only scary thing that could possibly happen would be my brother." Sherlock muffled.

John chuckled. "That bad?"

Sherlock merely nodded.

* * *

"Are you sure you will be able to handle this?"

"Absolutely, John."

"You don't look it, mate." Greg threw into the conversation. "Look at yourself, you're sicker than John's wildest phantasies."

"And that would say something, I guess?" Sherlock smirked.

John stood there completely bewildered. Sherlock was basically able to read John's mind, was he able to read that too?

"Oh my John, it seems so. " Greg coaxed. "You're as red as a tomato."

"Oh stop it, guys. You're not better."

Sherlock arched an eyebrow.

* * *

Before long they were all in front of the assembly hall, waiting for Mrs. Hudson to finally arrive. She did take her time. As always.

The sky was already dark but at least a few stars could be seen in it. A cold breeze wandered through the vicinity, leaving a few students old. Especially Sherlock.

"Oh, you're already waiting, I hadn't noticed, sorry." Mrs. Hudson said, clapping her hands. "Well, let's go!"

A few students started walking.

"Other direction, boys and girls!" Mrs. Hudson advised and soon they were gone into the cold, wet woods.

Let's say Sherlock didn't exactly love it. He should have brought some warmer clothes. Or a scarf, perhaps. But as the idiot he was, he had forgotten.

"John, look at Mrs. Hudson's hands. Do you notice anything uncommon?"

"Uhm, no? Why should I notice something on Mrs. Hudson's hands? Or look at them in the first place?"

"Because you do, John. It's too obvious, isn't it?"

"Well then, broaden my mind, genius."

"You see that little red dot on the tip of her fingers? She has been trying to wipe it away, but for no use. She's been preparing something: fake blood most likely. And the little carve in her hand comes from hanging something up, palpably. Then there's-"

"Oh, don't spoil all the fun, Sherly."

Sherlock groaned. "Why do you keep giving me these awful nick-names?"

"It's too obvious, isn't it?"

* * *

Greg searched the mass of students for a certain hedgehog-boy. And he was found, but miles away. What to do? Run, jostle and no mercy. It was the only way.

Greg wanted to remind John that he-

"Ah- there you are John. Shouldn't you be with Lisa? Haven't seen you two together much in the last few days. "

"God, I've been neglecting her, haven't I? Thanks mate; I should take good care of her." John said, giving Greg one last thankful look.

"There he goes, the Romeo to his Juliet." Greg said, more to himself than to Sherlock, which didn't mean Sherlock didn't hear.

Somehow this didn't sound right.

"I wish my Romeo will come soon." Greg added. "Uhmm... I mean Juliet, of course." He laughed forcedly.

"You're safe with me Gregory. I noticed earlier anyway." Sherlock whispered.

"Oh, right. What sexuality are you?" Greg said, happy not to be having to keep his secret from everyone.

"I'm not comfortable about saying that, especially not here." Sherlock said, pulling Greg out of the hoard and into the forest, where they couldn't be disturbed. They had been the last in the row anyhow, thus no one would notice their missing until late.

"This better?" Greg asked, looking around to see if anyone was nearby.

"Yes, it is."Sherlock sighed. "If you really want to know..."

Sherlock fidgeted a bit.

"Well, I thought that I was asexual for a long time, until late actually. But then we went onto this trip and now, you know... I may be gay. Although I disapprove of that system. I don't want to be stamped as something. I'm just me."

"I understand, mate." Greg paused shortly. "May it, your change you know, have something to do with John?"

"No, no! God! No, wh- ... You have no right to- This has been enough. Thank you very much." Sherlock drawled and stood up.

"Wait- I'm sorry, I-." Greg shouted after him, but he was far gone.

Greg didn't even know the way back.


	6. Chapter 6: crappy hell of a chapter

**Disclaimer: Don't own, for Christ's sake.**

Some days are better than the rest and, although they come and go quickly, you will never forget them. This wasn't one of them.

Sherlock was walking, alone in a crowd. The others were chattering away merrily, but Sherlock didn't feel the need. For anything, really. And he didn't have anyone to chat with anyway.

The worst thing was that John was with his girlfriend. Per times glancing at Sherlock, but that was as far as the communication went.

Greg had found his way back into the group as well, but more so by chance. However Sherlock didn't want to speak to him. Not after what had just happened.

Sherlock's eyes sank into the ground and he pondered what there was to do. Maybe he could analyze, deduce? Jolly good idea. Everything was better than having to think.

* * *

Later in the evening John walked side by side with his girlfriend, who was a big bundle of joy at the moment. John didn't really know the reason, but she just was. The rest didn't matter.

John couldn't see all of her, but what he saw through the moonlight was stunning enough. She looked just like an angel.

John couldn't hold it together; he just had to kiss her. And so he then did. Lisa smiled all throughout the kiss.

"Mind if we take this somewhere else?" She said in the most seducing tone she could muster, which was pretty good. Good enough for John.

"Whoa- no." He laughed and carried her bridal style into the forest.

You're all Johnlock-shippers, so I take it you don't explicitly want to know what happens next. :)

* * *

Greg waddled to Sherlock, still embarrassed, but having to speak to him.

"Sherlock, do you-?"

"-Know where John and Lisa are? Sure."

"Can you bring them back, please?" Greg begged, his posture imitating a mashed potato. He felt like he was in charge of them, so now his conscience was plaguing him.

"Why should I? You know well enough that they do not want to be disturbed at what they're doing." At that point Sherlock's face hardened. "They will find their way."

"Well, that's the point Sherlock, they won't. They've got no fucking clue, alright? You can't just leave them all alone!"

Sherlock sighed melodramatically. "Alright, I will find them. Under one condition."

"What condition? I can do anything you want, even your homework, if I have to."

"You are to leave me alone." Sherlock said, leaving Greg confused once more.

* * *

The forest was cold and neglecting, but Sherlock didn't care. More so the contrary: It was good to be alone. No John to irritate him. Although that would change soon enough.

Sooner than expected as it seemed. Sherlock was there, hearing sounds he wished had never reached his ears.

Maybe he should wait, but waiting would take such a long time. And Sherlock didn't want to spend one second longer in the rotten place.

Sherlock stepped through a few rows of trees until he reached the still moaning pair, which was completely unsuspecting.

Sherlock cleared his throat.

"When you two are done molesting each other, can you please come? It's getting late."

"Oh my god!" Lisa exclaimed. "What. The hell. Are you doing here?"

John laughed nervously. "Oh, hello, Sherlock."

"Yes, I have just witnessed you both in the act of sex, let's not make a fuss about it. " Sherlock said in a monotone voice. "I'm here to get you both back to the group. Ask Greg why. I'm not the one wanting to catch you while you're-"

"Yes, I've heard enough, thanks." John said, still blushing and covering his private parts.

"And please do fetch yourself some clothes, you wouldn't want to walk around naked..." Sherlock said, his voice trailing off. This hurt.

"You're a creep, man." Lisa said all anger of the world summoned in one person. "Have you been watching us, stalking us?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "As it is I have not. All I did was being attentive."

"And by attentive you mean watching us while-"

"No I do not. Without me you would be stuck here, would have to find the way back. And by your looks that would take hours." Sherlock spit out.

"Hey! "

"Do not interfere!" Sherlock jumped on John. "And you little Missy, don't say a word."

"No, I"

"Not. A. Single. Word."

* * *

John leaned heavily against the door-frame. This day had been too much. If he wouldn't get some sleep soon, he would kill himself. Literally.

He sighed.

A certain head honoured the hut with its presence. A head that belonged to Sherlock Holmes.

"Hello John." He said icily, not sharing a look with John.

"Hello." A silence filled the room. A silence Sherlock was not willing to fill. John should do his job.

"The scares were a bit crappy, weren't they?" John asked, waiting for a sign of life from the tall teenager.

"John, this is dull and you know it. The class has been talking about this the whole trip back."

"But wasn't it funny?"

"No."

"Mr. Stamford dressed up as Bloody Mary?"

"Nope. Can we please talk about something else? Anything else for the matter, I don't care. This topic is almost more tedious than your girlfriend."

"My girlfriend is not **tedious**."John sighed. "I see why people don't tend to like you."

"What?"

"You, my friend, are horrible. This isn't what friends are supposed to do, ok? Or whatever you want to call us."

Sherlock kept quiet, trying to zone John out. He didn't want to hear this.

"And what's the reason- why do you treat her so badly? What has she ever done to you?"

"You really want to know?" Sherlock said fiercely. "You **really **want to know?" Sherlock said almost shouting.

"Well then" Sherlock said, suddenly standing next to John. "You'll see."

Sherlock took Sherlock's waist and pressed him against the wall, his hands digging into John. He opened his mouth and soon captured John's in a heated kiss, no inch of space left between the two. He invaded John's mouth, leaving no room for maybes. Sherlock's hand was soon strongly pulling John's messy excuse of hair. And John didn't let go. He didn't protest. This was heaven.

"Uh, John you left your jumper at my place and-"

She thought she could trust him.

* * *

**What do we learn from today? Never forget your jumper. Anywhere. **


	7. Chapter 7: Sherlock? Lisa? John?

**Disclaimer: ... **

**Here goes another small chapter, stress on the small as it is the smallest size I have ever written. **

**I didn't have much time today, so that's my poor excuse of writting so little. I hope you won't mind. :)**

**Please R&R, it would make my day! If you have anything to rant about, pease tell me! I take every criticism that I can get as long as it is constructive. Thanks very much and enjoy!**

* * *

"John!?"

"Sherlock?!"

"Lisa?" Sherlock said finishing the thing off. He wasn't a man of doing halves.

"John?"

"Oh, this is getting old." Sherlock sneered. "Do what you were sent to do and then leave. I've got things planned for John." Sherlock eyebrowed John, smiling devilishly.

"Sherlock!?"

"Really? I would have expected better, even if it comes from you."

"John?" Lisa said quietly, while Sherlock was moaning in the back. "I thought I could trust you, I- I- we, wasn't I enough for you?"

"No, you were better than the best, you still ar-. "

"Am I now? What was that then? I don't take it you would kiss another guy if you thought like that."

"No, I love yo-." John said desperately. This couldn't be true.

"No, you don't. But you always were the one that was jealous. John?" Sherlock punched the wall. "Do you really know you love me? Are you sure?"

"I don't understand you." John shook his head.

"Me neither. And see, you just don't know."

"No, I can explain-."

"There is no need of explaining, John. I understood perfectly fine." Lisa paused for a while."This is it then. We're done."

John stood there, completely shocked and silent. Lost in his dreadful thoughts and feelings.

"And you don't even say anything?" Lisa looked at him perplexedly. "Well, I've got nothing to say to you either, you bastard. Be happy that I don't carry a gun."

She stormed out of the room, leaving the two idiots by themselves.

Sherlock eyed John amusedly. "Well, that was fun, wasn't it?"

"Fun? Are you serious?"

"Yeah, that could be qualified as fun. Although I don't know if it would for you. You think that Scottish accents are funny so-."

"Arrren't thee tho?"

"Oh, back off John." Sherlock laughed.

John composed himself. "But this really wasn't fun, alright? I'm so confused." John said, sinking into his bed. "You and me- and then. I can't realize that this has just happened."

"But isn't this better?"

"Better? BETTER?"

"I understood, John. I'm not daft."

"This is the opposite of better. I'm never gonna be with her again, hold her again-."

"Fuck her again?"

"Fuck off." John growled. "And you- you were the reason for all of this! You have spoilt everything." John shook his head. "You're useless."

Sherlock cracked.

"Please leave me now, okay?" John said miserably.

"What about us?"

"Us? There has never been an 'us'."

Sherlock broke. Completely.

"Please go, now."

"There has never been..." Sherlock repeated quietly.

"Oh for fuck's sake! Sod off!" John said, pulling Sherlock's arm and almost tossing him out of the door. "You can drown in the lake this time, it wouldn't matter." John slammed the door shut. He wasn't sorry. Sherlock deserved this.

Sherlock lowered himself onto the wet grass, feeling every drop off water underneath him. This is what he wanted to do, feel. The one thing he had avoided all his life was now more important than anything else. He wanted to suffer. He wanted to hurt. He wanted to feel sorry.

Feeling wasn't out of reach anymore. It was so near, so close.

* * *

**Sorry, I accidentally forgot to upload a part of the chapter: whoops! I'm so sorry!**


	8. Chapter 8: Moriarty

**Disclaimer: Sherlock isn't mine. They stole it from us. My preciousssss.**

**I'm sorry! I forgot to update a part of the last chapter! If you already read it, then please do so again! The plot wouldn't make much sense without it. I'm so, so sorry for the inconvenience. Thanks for your patience. :/**

**Thank you TimeLordsCompanion and MidnightWillows for their lovely reviews and a special shout-out to my mystery-guest mads who left many lovely reviews. Thank you!**

John zombied his way out of bed into the boy's bathroom. The others were already eating, but John had overslept his alarm and was dead-tired. He didn't mind, though. Eating wasn't important. At least not at the moment.

John turned the shower on and let the warm water flow over his rigid body. These days had been more than enough. And he had enough of a certain curly-haired teenager, who looked just like a striking Greek god. John hoped he wouldn't see more of him today, he didn't know how he would react to that, or if he would react to it at all. He didn't like to be unsure of himself.

John grabbed a towel. This shower had been more than needed. It's not that John stank or anything, he had just needed to let the stress out and be a little less tense.

* * *

Sherlock was with Greg, both of them complaining about their situation. It was nice to have someone who you could tell anything, at all. Sherlock had smuggled himself into the hut very late in the evening when John was fast asleep. They had spent their evening like this, complaining. And the whole of their day until now as well.

"... I don't get it, David seemed so interested in me and now he's going out with that, that Moriarty-fella. Creepy kid, I tell you."

"He always reminds me of you."

"Yeah, and he-." Greg blinked perplexed "Hey!"

"It wasn't meant like that." It was.

"It better wasn't, moron." Greg laughed. "You're not even half as bad as I thought you were."

"I take that as a compliment."

Sherlock suddenly turned his head. A small figure stood in the doorway of the hall, looking more lost than ever. John.

"Greg, what should I do? Shall I talk to him?"

"Better not, leave him in peace for a while. He's under enough stress already."

"Well, I'm not an emotion-driven idiot, I wouldn't know that."

"You look exactly like one at the moment." Greg said, glancing at Sherlock. "Aren't you going to eat anything?"

"No thanks. I already ate some of my lunchbox from yesterday this morning. I was hungry."

Sherlock was getting better at lying every minute.

* * *

"Listen, listen, everybody!" Mrs. Hudson said at full volume, so that the whole hall could hear it. "I'm sorry to interrupt you in the middle of your lunch, but there are some important things to say before you make yourself ready for today."

John laughed; he hadn't even started.

"We have a change in the programme; we aren't going to see Wellingford today." The students moaned: they had been looking forward to that for a long time. "We will stay here and spend our time with team-work activities and sports." Now the students moaned even more.

"Now, now my children. It will be fun..."

* * *

"Mind if I-?" John said, pointing at a free seat next to David. "Not at all." He replied, smiling a toothy smile.

"And you are?" John asked.

"Raphael. You should now me-."

"No, I didn't mean you."

"Oh, you meant me?" A sly smile crept onto his features. "James Moriarty, pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine." John said. Finally someone polite. "And you-?"

"I'm David's boyfriend, yes." Moriarty whispered.

"Oh, shush you guys! Not everybody has to know it." Especially not Greg.

"Oh, David. Why so cross?" Moriarty coaxed, laying his hands on David's thigh.

"Don't touch me!"

"Good god, I'll have to teach you to shut-." Moriarty remembered his place. "Ahaha, sorry. This won't happen again, will it now David?" He said with a dangerous touch in his eyes.

Maybe John didn't like Moriarty at all.

* * *

It had never appeared to Sherlock how beautiful John was, but it did now. Even in this worn-out and half-dead version of John, Sherlock saw this certain something. It was everywhere around John, everywhere he went. John made anything better, literally anything. Even social interaction would be no problem if John was just there.

Sherlock wished he could touch John, feel John. Or even just talking to him would suffice. But not this, this was hell. All these people around him, the terrible stench of sweat. He wished he had a knife. Maybe he should get one?

"Guys! Guys? Look! What the hell is that?" Raphael said, his stomach turning at the sight that lay before him.

How could something like this have ever happened?

* * *

**DUN-DUN-DUNNNNN!**


	9. Chapter 9 : anger management issues

**Disclaimer: Who had such a stupid idea and made up disclaimers? Argh!**

**As you may be able to tell, my computer is pissing the hell out of me. I have literally spent one and a half hours trying to make this run and by the time you will read this I will probably dance a tango.**

**I've thought that I may wait one week and let you all suffer and weep over the cliffhanger, but not even I am that mean. Sorry, rant over. I hope you will enjoy this chapter! Please leave a review and tell me what you think! It would be very much appreciated. Thank you!**

* * *

Sherlock didn't believe his eyes.

Behind the bushes that separated the little meadow they were doing sports on from the forest, a shivering silhouette could be seen. A silhouette that looked dangerously familiar.

Sherlock ran as fast as he could. As he reached his target, he blinked repeatedly. This couldn't be true. This couldn't be happening.

On the cold, wet floor lay no one else than Greg. Greg.

Why Greg of all people? He was the one who deserved it the least.

Blood streamed from his face and Greg's eyes were closed, tears falling rapidly. Half of his clothes were torn apart and pink, aching flesh could be seen underneath. His cheekbones were covered in blue and violet bruises.

This wasn't a beautiful sight, not even to Sherlock.

Sherlock approached Greg swiftly, scanning his whole body.

"This has been no accident. Going by the state of his non-existent trousers and many different abrasions around his private parts, he's most likely been raped. The culprit wasn't alone, no. He had at least one- no two accomplices." By that sentence Sherlock sniffed in the air. "Interesting. One accomplice was a girl, the others were both boys. No boy would voluntarily wear a playboy-vanilla deodorant." John coughed. "All of them are roughly the same age, our age."

"So, one- one of us has-?" John asked unbelievingly. This couldn't be happening.

"Yes, most likely." Sherlock took out his magnifying glass and took a turn around Greg's heavily breathing body. "We're looking for a boy with the shoe-size of- OH!"

"Ha!" Sherlock triumphed. "This makes things a lot easier." He said pointing at a tiny silver object.

"An earring? How is that going to help us?"

"Obvious, John. Look for the girl with the missing earring!"

"But anyone could have lost their earring around here, by accident."

"Oh, John. I envy you so much! At first: No one else can enter these premises and secondly why should anyone attend this place? It's dark here, neither beautiful nor romantic which excludes pairs who want to have a fling. It stinks and there are thorn-bushes basically everywhere, John. Rethink."

"Alright, Mr. Know-it-all. It was just a guess."

"Guessing's for idiots." Sherlock said, smiling suggestively.

Sherlock turned to the other students who were too stunned to react and demanded:

"People, listen! You need to get Gregory to our teachers as fast as you can, understood? Doing nothing will do him no good, so hurry up!"

The students started moving quickly, but John stood still, glancing up at Sherlock.

"Will you stay?" Sherlock asked sheepishly.

"Why should I? I can't leave Greg all alone-."

"He isn't."

"But what do you-?"

"There are investigations to appoint, you know, I'm not able to do that all alone." Sherlock said expectantly.

"You seem to. Have you seen yourself right then? You'll solve this in a minute."

"Not without a personal assistant." Sherlock sighed and turned. "But if you don't want to-."

John prepared himself to leave, but something. Just. Kept. On. Nagging. Couldn't he go out of the way of danger for once?

"For god's sake-." John moaned. "Where do you want us to go?"

"That's better." Sherlock smirked. "Let's."

And then Sherlock was gone, behind the next corner. John would have a lot of running to do.

* * *

"Hello?" Said a yet sweet, quiet voice.

"Oh hello Kristen, we were wishing to see Lisa-."

"Oh hello John and- Oh my god! Sherlock?" Kristen giggled. "Hello." She grinned like a horse.

"Uhm, yeah, Kristen-can we please see-." Said Sherlock, clearly irritated.

"What are two good-looking guys like you doing here, eh?" She snorted. "No, no, don't say anything, I'll-."

"Please can we just-?"

"You're interrupting a lady? I would have thought you had better manners."

"Yes, we have, please just let us through-." John uttered, anxiety getting the better of him.

"No, no, let's have a nice little chat. You don't get one of these often the last years, you're always interrupt-"

Lisa stood in the door, shushing the infuriating voice of Kristen. John had never been more happy and unhappy at the same time to see Lisa. This wasn't a good sign, was it?

"Hello John." The ice could be heard through fire.


	10. Chapter 10: fairytales

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlyyy (but pretty much everyone else)**

**Here we go again with another (long-awaited) chapter. I hope you will enjoy it for I'm finally content with one of my chapters. (Hooray!)**

**A very big shout-out to one of my friends, because she's ill and turned into a zombie throughout a day. I hope you'll get better soon. :)**

**Please R&R, it would make my day! Thanks very much and enjoy it as long as you can. (Muhahaha)**

* * *

"Hello Lisa." John muttered, trying to free his throat of a lump that he hadn't noticed being formed before. "Uhm, how are you?"

"I'm very fine, thanks very much." She spat out. "Have never been better."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. He didn't really need pubertal teenagers to spoil this all.

"Lisa? We have to ask you some questions." Sherlock ordered.

"And why should I do that?"

Sherlock looked her dead in the eye. "Because I have got some information about you, Lisa, that I wouldn't really want public if I were you."

"Uh, have you now?" She laughed impatiently. "Not that I would care though, anyway. There's nothing about me that the class couldn't hear."

"So, I shall tell the class that you once almost dr-."

"What do you wanna hear?"

Sherlock smirked triumphantly. "How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Oh, don't play dumb. You know exactly what I mean."

Lisa sighed. "How I...?"

"Yes? Go on, please."

"If I have to. I admit that I stole Mr. Stamford's panties, but it was only for truth or dare, I swear. I didn't mean to-"

"What?" Sputtered both John and Sherlock at once.

"Oh my god, you didn't come here for the panties? This is so embarrassing." She blushed.

"But, how can I be wrong?" Sherlock said. "Everything fit perfectly: the deodorant, the look on your face, your movements... how?"

John grinned. "Seems she isn't the only one with vanilla-deodorant, eh?"

"Oh, how could I have overseen it? She wasn't wearing it, you did. And because of your molestations, she had it on her. How can I be so daft?"

"Well, now that that's cleared, can't we-?"

"How can I be so stupid? There's always something wrong, always."

"Please, Sherlock?" John asked.

"Yes?"

"Can we leave now?"

"Not yet, there are still some things we have to talk about." Sherlock replied, grinning dangerously and turning back to Lisa. "At first: What do you know about James Moriarty?"

"James? Oh, he's an okay fella, but I've heard that he's gay, so I don't really like him."

Sherlock tensed slightly. "More."

"Uhm, I've heard that his little brother died at a very young age, he lives somewhere near my home in a small flat with his father. That's as much as you can squeeze out of me."

Sherlock could only do so much as sympathize with him; although he knew that it would do him no good. They were just too equal.

"Do you really think this was James?" John asked, fear written all over his face. "I mean he seems a bit weird, but that-?"

"I felt something the very first second I laid my eyes on him and registered a lot of information, such as the information Lisa just confirmed."

"Why did you need me then?" Lisa asked crossly.

"For confirmation, as I said only a few seconds ago." Sherlock shook his head in displeasure. "And also you have something else on your mind, don't you? You just don't want to say it, because you may feel it would be humiliating, especially around John. That is that you have been growing special, how to put it 'feelings' for this certain M-"

"What? How long?" John asked ardently.

"A little long-"

"While we were still together?" John asked. He couldn't believe it.

"Uhm, yeah?" Lisa said, fearfully awaiting John's reaction.

John laughed. "You little bitch."

"What?"

"I can't believe I ever fell for you."

"Me neither." Said both others, although for various reasons.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" John asked, directing his question to Sherlock.

"Well, I thought your feelings might be hurt and I-didn't want to see you sad."

"You? And feelings? I learn something new about you every day."

"That's what makes me so interesting." Sherlock grinned.

"Sherlock Holmes, ever the humble."

* * *

John and Sherlock were soon shushed out of the hut due to their intolerable and unstoppable flirting, which annoyed Lisa to bits. And so they decided to look out for clues and whatnot. They couldn't face Moriarty yet, since they didn't have the needed evidence thus far.

"Sherlock? Why should Moriarty do something like this, there's no reason-."

"Have you heard about David? Moriarty's boyfriend?"

"Yeah, sure, what about him?"

"Well, Greg is not as heterosexual as you may think."

"He's gay too?"

"Problem?"

"No, it's just- so many people are gay, where will all the babies come from? The human race will soon be deleted."

"John, you're stupid. You're gay as well and you say such dense-."

"If anyone still cares; I am not gay."

"What does it matter anyway?" Sherlock sighed. "Let's get back to business."

"So: David and Greg?"

"Yes, it's the typical boy meets boy but the more female of the two is torn away by an evil all-destroying beast-story."

"Oh, so David doesn't love Moriarty?"

"Nope."

"Interesting. Why don't we just ask him?"

"He's most likely with Moriarty right now and we're not able to-." Sherlock stopped.

"Hello John."


	11. Chapter 11: finally a kiss

**Own Disclaimer: I do not, S herlock, Yoda I am**

**Author's sentence (if you go by my sister): I can't write very much, because my sister's annoying me and doesn't stop talking (actually it's the other way around, I stole her laptop (I'm only writing this to make her content)).:)**

**See ya and enjoy!**

* * *

"Oh, h-hello James." Stuttered John nervously, which was commented by a Sherlockian eye-roll. John had the bad habit of spoiling anything fun.

"How are you today?" Moriarty asked, grinning maliciously.

"Quite well, I guess. I do not think I have to ask you how you are, since you seem to find this whole situation tremendously funny. Excuse us-"

"Oh no, actually I am rather shocked at the time being. Have you heard of Greg's-"

"Oh, don't play games with me; I'm not as daft as John looks."

"Hey!"

Moriarty mustered the two of them. "But be warned, I notice what you two are doing, I'm not as incompetent as John looks."

"Can you two just let it be for-?"

"Nope." Sherlock interrupted. "And James? Don't ever think I'd let myself be intimidated, especially not by you and your silly little games. You're such a toddler."

"Ooh, Sherlock, I feel so hurt by your mean insults." Moriarty mocked.

"You should be."

"Guys, please. Can you two once-"

"No!" Sherlock hissed. "But James, I have one question left for you: How are things going with David?" Sherlock beamed.

"Don't take him into this."

"Has he heard about Greg yet? I guess little Davido is gonna be very disappointed by his big Daddy." Sherlock made a frowny-face, but soon broke it with a grin.

"You little bastard." Moriarty said, grabbing Sherlock by the collar. "If you say one more word out of that fragile mouth of yours, I will personally make it my goal to kill everything that's left of your miserable, wretched soul, understood?"

"And then _I_ will kill _you_." John huffed. "Nobody touches Sherlock, you'd have to get through me first and that is not easy, I tell you."

A wave of anger flushed John that he had never felt before. If that idiot laid one finger on Sherlock, Moriarty would have drawn his last breath; John would make sure of that.

"Possessive little f-"James laughed.

"You wouldn't dare!" Sherlock exclaimed, now being the one in charge of the other's collar.

"Partners in crime, eh? I wouldn't ever dare to touch your boyfriend, John." Moriarty said, all innocence.

"He's not my boyfr-."

"Come to terms with it, will you? Basically everyone knows it."

"Should we just leave him here?"Sherlock asked. "He's just going to make some vicious plans; he wouldn't be of much use."

And therefore they left under the loud protests of Moriarty, who had really only wanted to show off a little bit of his evilness. What did people exist for?

* * *

"Shouldn't we just tell Mrs. Hudson that he-?" John whispered.

"Not yet, John. We'd be accused of lying, he's not daft that sod. And he's got more people in his hands than you know." Sherlock whispered back.

"What?"

"You remember Lisa? He seems to be popular under the dim-witted."

"I must admit, I liked him too, the very first seconds only of course. I think he can make you like him."

"Well John, that's no surprise. You're a little bit dim-witted as well, but to your defence I have to say that you have become better. You changed somehow."Sherlock paused. "And John, I'm sorry for- you know- kissing you... it's not that-"

"Don't be." John said grinning widely. "Because you know what?"

Silence filled the room in which Sherlock stared at John in a fishy manner.

"You're supposed to say 'what' now, Sher." John murmured.

"Oh, uhm, what?"

"Not only my intellect has changed Sher'." John said, smirking at Sherlock suggestively.

"What?"

"Oh, you're so stupid for a genius. My feelings have changed."

"And?"

"For the better?"

"So what? Which feelings?"

"Oh, you moron. I like you."

"Oh." Sherlock summoned himself. "Just like?"

John rolled his eyes. "I bloody love you, man."

Sherlock let out a long breath and smiled broadly. "Really?"

"Yup."

"No one has talked you into this?"

"No."

"You're okay with being gay?"

"Yes, naturally I am. You're spoiling the moment." John said looking up to Sherlock.

"Oh, am I? I-I'm sorry. What- now, how?"

"Take a deep breath. This is the moment where I should be kissing you."

"Are- are you?"

"Yup."

"No protests?"

"Gosh, Sherlock." John moaned, locking up Sherlock's lips in a kiss, smiling. His arms pulled Sherlock's waist closer to him and they were soon lost in a very clumsy but all the more enjoyable kiss.

This was the moment that they had long been waiting for. Only that John had merely just noticed it.


	12. Chapter 12: complications

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock and neither am I able to make Johnlock come true... the world's a sad place.**

**Hello everybody! I'm sorry I didn't update yesterday, but I had loads of issues with the internet and the laptop in common. Not only that it crashed every 5 minutes or so, the internet didn't work either and I was one big ball of rage. I'm happy that this is cleared now. :)**

**I hope you'll enjoy this chapter and have as much fun as you can with the rest of the story. Please, please don't leave me. **

* * *

But as fate had it, Sherlock and John shouldn't be able to rest in their happiness much longer, as a certain wind of change had decided to wind things up. This wind of change came in the form of Justin, who was himself a little bit through the wind.

"Oh, hello Sherlock, John." He said nodding into John's direction but soon came to an end as he mustered them. "Wait, what were you guys just doing here?"

"Oh, we were just-"

"-Looking for evidence." John interrupted, laughing forcedly.

"Were you now?" Justin said suspiciously. "Well, I take it you're searching for traces, because of Greg?"

"Yeah, sure." John said eyeing Sherlock demandingly as if to say: keep your sexy mouth shut. "Do you know anything?"

"Well, I have heard some things from Moriarty." Justin remembered.

"What did he say?"

"Oh, this and that. That he couldn't believe someone doing this to poor Greg and everything, but I don't know any details." Said Justin, thinking hard and staring into the sky.

"Are you sure?" Sherlock asked, suddenly very close to Justin and gazing down at him threateningly.

"Uhm, yes, I am." Justin stuttered, unexpectedly a little less sure.

"Liar."

"What?"

"You're as easy to read as a Japanese manga, the only thing you have to be able to do is know your language and know from which side to look at you, the rest is easy."

"Have you just compared me to a manga?"

"Yes, I have and I do not regret it one bit, but that is of no importance. Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Oh don't be daft. You know exactly what I mean."

"I'm confused." John threw into the conversation.

"Don't you see it, John?" Sherlock said, smirking. "The way Moriarty and Justin have stuck together all week? They're as thick as thieves, in the most literal way possible."

"So Justin has got some input in this. He's something like the second hand, Moriarty's accomplice?"

"Yes. Very good, John."

"Oh, don't always call him Moriarty, you twats."

"I call everyone whom I dislike with their last name, the reason I would never call teachers by their first, don't I, Moran?"

John shuddered, the name Moran triggered something in him he didn't really want to feel.

"Alright."

"We will let him go for the time being. But if you make one false step into the wrong direction, you will see the consequences faster than you can say banana-split in Bananarama thrice, understood?"

Justin nodded. "Alright."

* * *

Mrs. Hudson ran into their direction, her tea pouring all over her.

"Boys, boys!" She yelled, not caring a single care about her tea or her dress for that matter.

"Yes, Martha, what is it?" Sherlock asked.

"Greg, he's worse."

John and Sherlock both stood still, no breath drawn until Sherlock stuttered: "How bad?"

"Very."

"Shit. Can't we do anything?" John muttered.

"Not at the moment, I am sorry. I just wanted you to know as even _you_ have grown some sort of attachment, Sherlock, and that is very rare." She smiled into the taller boy's direction.

"It seems I have changed."

* * *

John and Sherlock were now both with Greg , who was shivering in his bed, drowning under masses of blankets and hot bandages. His condition got worse from second to second, but he still had something on his tongue, some things he wanted to say. It just didn't get out.

"Joh-?" He coughed.

"Yes, yes."

"I wasn't, wasn't- ah-wasn-."

"Don't. You should get some rest. Sleep a little. Rest." John smiled a little, sad smile at Greg, which was meant to be reassuring."It'll get better, I promise."

"But-."

"No buts."

"No butts? I must be in the wrong room." Sherlock laughed, coming back from his journey to the toilet. Even aspiring consulting detectives have to see the loo sometimes.

"Oh, Sherlock." John shook his head. "You're hopeless."

"I'm hopeless for you." Coaxed Sherlock, slightly shifting closer to John, his lips an inviting sight.

"Not-not here, Greg's here."

Sherlock abruptly hardened his once smooth movements as hard and cold as steel. "Why do you always insist that no one know about us? Is it such a shame to love me? Am I such a shame?"

"Oh, don't make a drama out of this."

"Drama? You didn't even want to tell Justin that we were together. What's so wrong in that?"

"You see Sherlock; I don't want everyone to know that we are together. They may hate us because-."

"Because I love you? Have you seen any harm done to Moriarty and David? Hm?"

"No, it's just that Lisa-:"

"So, you're still after her? Interesting. I fell for you."

"No, but-." He stammered.

"There really are no but(t)s anymore John, not from me anyway. I thought you-" Sherlock sighed. "It doesn't matter."

Sherlock left.

You wouldn't want to imagine John's facial expression.

* * *

Sherlock stormed out of the room, knocking over a student and not even giving a damn. Had he noticed earlier that this student was David then that would have been much to his benefit. Damn.

"Oh, uhm, hello David."

David only growled as a response.

"I'm sorry." Sherlock nodded as if to support his exclamation. "I- just. So-" Sherlock didn't want to repeat himself. It was only ever so often that you heard the genius apologize.

"Alright." David grinned. "Never mind."

Sherlock collected himself. "So, what are you doing here?"

"Looking for Greg, of course. Everyone is so sorry for him, must have been terrible."

"Well, you're not everyone." Sherlock smirked despite himself. "And not everyone is sorry."

"Can you please not tell James that I-?"

"I understand perfectly." Sherlock nodded.

David prepared himself to leave, but Sherlock still had something on his mind.

"David?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you notice anything peculiar, with James, I mean? Anything that could help us?"

"I'm not sure if I am allowed to say this."

"It doesn't matter. Greg does." Sherlock looked him in the eyes as reassuringly as he could.

"Alright." By this David began to whisper. "James keeps almost everything from me; I can't touch a thing of his. But one time when he was off with that Justin-guy, whatever, I found a bloodied handkerchief in his luggage."

"You go through his luggage?"

"Yes, what else can I do to not go insane with that maniac? Anyway, I kept it and he went almost half-mad, well wholly mad, because he couldn't find it later on. But he didn't suspect me. I'm his innocent prey. The only thing I'm not quite sure about is whether or not it's Greg's blood. If it is then we're saved."

"Let me see it."

"Well, I don't carry it with me. He would find out."

* * *

"And here it is-" David exclaimed. "-not. What? Where is it?"

David searched the cupboard in the kitchen with a feverish determination, but it couldn't be found. How could this be possible?

"It must be here somewhere."

"Well, this hasn't been the greatest place for hiding, has it?"

"Shit."

* * *

Raphael turned himself around in his cosy, little bed with no care in the world. This bed was made for sleeping in it. Well, every bed was made for sleeping in, actually. He yawned.

But that should change soon.

"Raphael, Raphael!" Said James Moriarty, shock written over the entirety of his face. "What is that?" He pointed at Raphael's luggage. "Oh my god, is that blood?" James tightened his eyes. "Is that- is-?"

Raphael sat up and stared at James, who was looking as if he was calculating something, thinking hard.

James pulled out a handkerchief. "You? I didn't expect that _you_ of _anyone _could do something as vile as-!"

"No, I didn't-!"

"Don't argue; I have seen this with my own two eyes." James said, staring Raphael down.

"But I-"

"Don't you dare touch me! You almost murdered Greg, _you_! I can't believe it!"

There would be no time for sleeping.

* * *

**An enormous shout-out to my lovely reviewers and everyone who follows or reads this story! However, there are two people I'd like to especially give my thanks to. MidnightWillows and ELLYNARA3, you are so awesome for writing such reassuring and nice reviews. I can't thank you enough! :)**


	13. Chapter 13: The Man Who Lied

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, really. But the OC's are mine, hehehehe!**

**Hello again, everybody! I hope you had a fantastic day and are going to enjoy your week-end. I spent most of today writing this chapter, so now I'm kind of very tired. Please enjoy this chapter as it would make me very happy if it did. :) See ya and enjoy!**

* * *

Mrs. Hudson was in uproar. This whole affair had been terrible enough, but for a student to do something this dreadful? A student out of their own rows? Mrs. Hudson didn't believe it and neither did she want to believe in it. Especially since she was told it should be Raphael, the offender. Why Raphael? What reasons should he possess for doing something as horrible as this?

Mrs. Hudson shook her head. She restrained from losing it completely and just tearing down the posters on the wall, the thing she wanted to do the most at the time. A very unladylike thing to do. Hm!

Nonetheless Martha Hudson had things to attend to. The class couldn't be handled on its own, especially in this state. The students were down-right traumatized; they didn't know what to do and knew even worse how to deal with Raphael, who had once been a good colleague. But so didn't she either.

The world was a strange and confusing place.

Well, she must be going; sorting out Raphael should take some time. At least he was already tied to a chair, loosely of course. She was only wondering were James had gotten the rope from. And that so promptly.

* * *

"John, John? Could someone please tell me what's going on?" David said squeakily.

John stood there, his eyes absent and his hands gripping into the leaves of a tree, crumbling the leaves bit by bit.

"John? Are you there? Since Sherlock isn't. "

"Uh, yeah, sure. What is it?"

"Well, Sherlock isn't near and I have absolutely no clue whatsoever about what's going on. Can you-?"

"Sure." John stood straight. "They say it's Raphael's fault, that he's been doing- Well, you know, with Greg. They've found a bloodied handkerchief in his luggage and every trace of evidence stands against him, but it can't be, Sherlock couldn't possibly be wrong-"

"I'm sorry, so, so sorry." David said, reminding John of the 10th doctor standing in the rain.

"What? Why did you just say that?"

"Because, because I have found the tissue in the first place. I found it in James's suitcase and hid it and now-? He must have noticed, he must have- Oh my god; he's going to kill me. "

"No, he's not. Not as long as I am around, alright? I'll protect you- you won't be harmed. "

"Nah, I don't need any protection, thank you very much. I'm able to protect myself on my own." David looked away. He was strong enough to fight for himself.

"It was only an offer."

* * *

Sherlock strode across the field rapidly, looking out for John. He needed him. And he needed him to come quickly. Where was the lad when one needed him?

"John! John!" Ah, he had found him, finally. Still fairly in the distance, but at least he was there.

"John!"

John was startled and looked up into the distance, following a little black dot in the background. Sherlock. He laughed. John saw a little bit more of Sherlock's madness every day. And he loved every second of it.

"John! John! John! You need to come! I have new traces! I know who it is, we have to go! John?" Sherlock said gleefully but then raised his eyebrows in confusion.

John caught Sherlock in an attack-hug. He squeezed Sherlock so tight to himself that they almost couldn't breathe, but it didn't matter. "I, I missed you." John stuttered, breathing in the welcome scent. "Me too." "Are you still mad at me?" John questioned, biting his bottom lip."No, you?" "No." "Good."

"Sherlock, you know, we could, if you want to, tell the others. If that's as you wish. We don't need to keep hiding."

"Thank you John." Sherlock said, trying to rest his head somewhere on John, but their height-difference made the task a little bit complicated.

"You're such a dwarf." Sherlock chuckled.

"Hey!" John smirked. "Then you're a giraffe."

"Hey!" Sherlock said with feigned hurt in his eyes.

"You're right, giraffes don't fit. They're too pretty for that hideous face of yours. You're more of a whale."

Sherlock laughed. "John Watson, ever the pleasant."

"Oh, shut up!" John said, catching Sherlock in a passionate kiss before the moron could even think of a reply.

* * *

David shivered with fear and regret. Why did he always have to behave so stupidly? Why hadn't the lord presented him with an ounce of intelligence?

He kicked a stone. The world wasn't fair.

James, James, James. He was the embodiment of evil. What if he had never existed? What if David had just met Greg without ever seeing the face of that asshole? Life would be a whole lot better. There would be rainbow-puking ponies everywhere. And the sun would shine all year long.

That idiot.

"Hello, David." Moriarty said a dreadfully dangerous glint in his eyes. "Have you been thinking about me, sweet-heart?"

David didn't reply.

* * *

"Mrs. Hudson these are my last words on this subject, Raphael did not do it!"

"But-."

"No buts. Ask David himself, he knows that Raphael hasn't done it. And he's sure."

"But-!"

"What did I just say? Raphael is innocent; can't you see it in his eyes?

"I'd want to believe it and to see it, but I can't. Everything stands against him, don't you see-?"

"You can't just call the police and get him off of your hands, you owe him that." Sherlock said, his emotions finally shining through in his demands.

"What? I owe a rap-?"

"He is not a rapist. Why should he rape his best friend?"

"You see, I don't understand it myself." Mrs. Hudson sighed. This wasn't going well. "Okay, I'll talk to David." Sherlock smirked triumphantly. "But only for a few seconds, alright?"

"Ta."

Mrs. Hudson stepped into a group of students, including David and Moriarty, who grabbed at David's hand possessively.

"David, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Yes, what with it?" He said tensely.

"It would be better if you were to follow me into another room."

David nodded, but James interrupted: "What you can say to him, I can hear as well. We're basically one person." David cringed at that remark. Being basically one person with James Moriarty wasn't a compliment.

Moriarty shook his head and whispered through his teeth. "I can hear you."

David shuddered.

"So, what is it?" He said bravely.

"It's about Greg, so I don't know if everyone should hear this."

At this David's eyes widened in shock. James shooed away the people of their little group, making way for Sherlock, who almost sprinted into their direction.

"Should he st-?" Moriarty asked.

"He can." David interrupted. "He knows more about it than I do."

Mrs. Hudson nodded curtly.

"Sherlock here told me that Raphael is not in any way involved in this and is completely innocent, can you confirm that as completely right?"

James tightened his grip around and gave him a threatening glare, don't say anything stupid. I've got you in my hands. David gulped and looked at Mrs. Hudson. "I can only confirm that this is... true, uhm not, uh, I mean not, I do."

Mrs. Hudson mustered him quizzically.

"I saw Raphael. It was too obvious to overlook. But I couldn't interfere, I would have died. I saw every last detail, heard every scream. It was horrible." David scrunched up his face in disgust, but for a different reason than Mrs. Hudson thought.

Sherlock stared at David disbelievingly. He had put all his trust in that man. The man who lied.

David looked at Sherlock apologetically, but Sherlock only shook his head.

"So, the case is closed then." Mrs. Hudson said tiredly. "And look we've even got a witness." She said, with fake cheer in her eyes.

* * *

"Raphael?"

"Yes, lord, yes?" Raphael shouted through the darkness of the room.

"It's me, Sherlock, I-"

"I didn't do it, I swear!"

"I believe you. I'm here to get you out."

"You better aren't, Sherly." James said putting the lights on. "Because if you are, John would be one boyfriend short."

"Don't you dare call me Sherly; only John's allowed to call me that way."

"Getting possessive, are we?"

"To hear that out of your mouth." Sherlock shook his head. You don't learn out.

"Yes, I have the right to own what is rightfully mine, don't you think? Whereas John's thoughts always end up at Lisa's, don't they?"

"Do you really think that David loves you? You're pathetic."

"Hello, I'm still here?" Raphael intervened. "Is it really this dif-"

"Oh shut up!" Sherlock drawled.

"Oh, I'll find quite an enjoyable way to shut _you_ up, finally." Moriarty said directing his phrase at Sherlock with an excited tingle in his eyes.

"How?"

"So that you won't be able to say one more word out of that dirty mouth of yours. And you won't even be able to say anything at the court. What a pity." Moriarty said his mouth forming an O-shape.

The next thing Sherlock saw was nothing. Black.

* * *

**Hehehehe... I love me some cliffhangers. I'm sorry but I most likely won't be able to update this beautiful little story until Monday as I have to learn for an exam, which I really shouldn't fail at. If I spent my days writing this story I will fail miserably, I am sorry! :/**


	14. Chapter 14: a game of cards

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, but I swear, one day it will be my rightful posession and I will do whatever damn-well pleases me with it.**

**Hello again! Here I go with another highly anticipated chapter, or at least I hope so. :) Thank you for being so patient with me and waiting for me to get my lazy arse up and do what I'm supposed to do. **

**I'm sorry if I caused any inconvenience, but I changed the picture of my story and the title. Sorry! I just felt like my old stuff was a bit boring. **

Martha Hudson and David entered the dimly lit room, which was only enlightened by a few beams of sunlight creeping through the shutter of the window.

She turned on the light switch which threw a touch of light on Raphael, enough for him to feel a little bit more secure. Why did they have to keep him in the dark anyway? He wouldn't be much use against the ropes and his telekinetic skills were _slightly_ outdated, so why the darkness?

"So, there we go, Raphael?" asked Mrs. Hudson, who felt still a little bit shaken.

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"You have been officially proven guilty." She replied, not able to look him into the eyes. David flinched.

"What? How?" Raphael asked, stunned to no extent. This better wasn't happening. Maybe he was still abed, dreaming?

"Well, David is the witness; he has seen everything you have done. He was the one to tell me-"

"You?" Raphael asked neither believing his ears nor his eyes. "I trusted you; you have always been my best friend and you-? This can't be true." He shook his head.

"I believe it is." Mrs. Hudson sighed. "We will have to hand you over to the police now." She said, half of her face filled with disgust and the other with empathy. Since when did judgment become so hard?

Raphael stared at David, his eyes burning into David's soul. "Why? What has become of you?"

"James Moriarty." He replied, answering both questions in one go.

Raphael tried to gaze at David intensely; he wanted to wish him all the worst in life, that he and his yet to be children may rot in hell. But he couldn't. He was still too much of a friend.

"Good luck mate." He said, trying to erase the empathy in his eyes. He didn't know who would take it worse in the future.

"You too." David said, the tears in his eyes too evident. "I'm sorry, so sorry."

"I know."

Mrs. Hudson dialled the number.

* * *

James Moriarty felt like a king. The king of the world, maybe. But more like the king of hearts. Especially the king of David, whose heart he would own alone at once. Now that Raphael was out of the way and Sherlock in a quite delicate way too. James rubbed his hands; this had been the perfect crime and it was just way too easy.

"Sleep well, my darling." He whispered patting the bundle of sleep that Sherlock was at the time. "May god have mercy on your soul."

He wondered whether or not Sherlock would survive. Well, what did it matter to him?

* * *

Greg woke up, the sunlight reaching his eyes instantly, leading him to flinch. He winced, his whole body was still covered in wounds and he didn't feel a hint better. At least there was a blanket covering him, but even that hurt somehow. He wished he could escape this hellhole.

He took a peek around the room, finding not much there except the white, sterile decorations of a hospital. So he was in hospital then? The last time he looked, he was still back home. No, not home, their holiday resort- thingy? No it wasn't a resort, it was-? Good lord, his mind was on hold.

"Greg, Greg are you awake? Are you there?" Asked a voice which was strangely familiar. Taking a closer look, he noticed it was, Jo- Joan? Joh- Something with Joh-.

"Joh-?" Greg said, glee in his eyes for remembering at least something.

"Yes, John. Hi." John said, smiling at his friend's behaviour. It was nice to be recognized in such a cheerful way.

"What happen-?" Greg asked, trying to force his brain to work properly once more.

"Oh, you, well-." John cringed; they should really start off with another subject. It'd be better if Greg didn't know what happened from the beginning. Maybe later, but now that Greg had finally started healing it wouldn't be of much good. "It doesn't matter now, rest a little, sleep-"

"Where Sherlock-?"

John gulped. "Oh, he's trying to fix things for Raphael." He looked away, trying to avoid his friend's gaze.

"Raphae-?" Greg said, trying to remember with his mouth slightly opened and then nodding. "What things?"

"Uhm, with his girlfriend, you know."

"He has- girlfriend-d?" Greg asked, suspecting something.

"Uhm, yeah, didn't you know?"

"Who?"

John gulped saying out the first name that came into his mind. "Uh, Lisa."

"Wasn't- yo-u girlfrie-d?" Greg asked, nuzzling his head into the warm pillow.

How difficult can it be to trick a half-conscious, not even properly thinking and almost brain-dead idiot? Well, it seemed the idiot made the difference. Greg wasn't one.

* * *

Sherlock opened his eyes once more, just to wake up to the all too well-known darkness surrounding him.

He noticed some bruises and scratches which plastered his body and even some major wounds, but he merely catalogued them and then tried to forget them. Feeling sorry for himself wouldn't aid him and neither would concentrating on something so irrelevant. Besides, he needed to form a plan as quickly as possible. Selfishness never helps out.

"To hear that out of your mouth." John would have said. That idiot. Sherlock chuckled; John had already invaded half of his self. It was better that way.

So, where was he? Some sort of hut? Yes, that was the most probable. Reason for his being here? James Moriarty. That bit was clear.

Sherlock trried to re me m b er, but somehow, it all went blackk and- coold an d-

Shit, he h ad been drugged. At least he had one advantage. His bo dy was already accustomed to the medication, som ething James Moriarty didn't know and no one else di d. If Sherlock wanted to keep s omething hidd en, he did.

Sh erlock tried to sober himself up, but over all to think. Was there anything to go o n wi t h?

Fuck, the court! He had to intervene. No, no, no. He had to leave and that hurriedly. But how?

Oh, James Moriarty, you're not as clever as you think you are.

Sherlock rid himself of the rope that covered his body, using the hook on the wall to free himself. This was too easy. Maybe there were traps on the floor or the wall? Sherlock checked. This really was way to o simple.

He tried to take a few baby-steps into the right direction, but his knees buckled up before the rest of his body could protest. And then he looked down at his knees, or rather the mulch that replaced them.

Seemed like he had underestimated the situation.

* * *

The judge had already taken his place, the witnesses were about to and Raphael sat there with his hands tied to a chair whose direction it came from he didn't even know. Let's say the last days here had done nothing for his brain to work any better and he, as a whole, just felt like some kind of mash or pulp or something and god, he couldn't concentrate.

Everything he was able to see transformed frequently or flickered before his eyes. And the air buzzed, not in a good way though.

His head ached like some sort of elephant had trampled on it and what was he here for again? Oh, yes the court, that idiot of Raphael had rape- shit, he was Raphael, wasn't he? Had he done anything?

Oh, this day wouldn't be easy, would it?

"So, Raphael, how old are you?"

"Oh, 17, sir."

"Thank you very much." The judge said, carrying on with a few questions to test Raphael's condition. When he was satisfied, he looked into Raphael's eyes trying to analyze every movement or twitch on his opposite's side. "Raphael, you have been accused of abusing Gregory Lestrade, hurting him in the cruellest of ways and then going as far as raping him, can I qualify that as true?"

Raphael gulped, his eyes pinning around the room, searching for any sort of halt he couldn't find.

"I-I don't know, sir."


	15. Chapter 15: wellies and mud

**Disclaimer: Sherlock is mine and I am in fact Moffat, going to haunt you with evil cliffhangers... hehehehe... I will feast on your tears**

**Hello guys! Here we go again with another fabulous chapter! I hope you will enjoy it, that would make me tremendously happy. :) **

**I'm so, so grateful for all the lovely reviews you have left! Just when I think that this fanfiction isn't worth writing any longer, you go and motivate me. I love you, honestly! (not in a stalkerish way, though :))**

**I don't know which one of you to thank the most, so I'll just send big cyber-hugs to you all! **

* * *

Mr. Stamford searched the crowd for a curly, black head, but wasn't able to find anything apart from a few squealing teenagers, who were still in shock and fear from the recent events. So, nothing had changed then.

"Students, students, please remain calm! I have something of significance to ask you!"

He gazed at the students demandingly, looking ready to punch anyone who didn't listen or made any sort of noise flat in the face. He huffed, this actually worked. The students, who knew him only as gentle and calm, took this completely by surprise. He triumphed silently and opened his mouth yet again.

"Thank you class." He nodded. "This concerns every one, has anyone of you seen the 16-year-old Sherlock Holmes?"

John swallowed hard; he had been asking himself the same question too, since he had come back from the hospital. He had originally intended to stay there with Greg, but as things went, Mrs. Hudson wanted him to be back and the nurses told him not to distress Greg so much. Greg would need some rest. As if John's presence would distress anyone.

Mr. Stamford looked around the room, still waiting for anyone to state something of substance. But he didn't receive a word in reply.

"Does no one know anything about the whereabouts of Sherlock Holmes?"

James giggled. Apparently not.

Mrs. Hudson was completely flabbergasted once more. Another reason to call the police, or shouldn't she? Had the boy just broken out or was he really missing? And most importantly: What was she ought to do?

* * *

John took a walk around the fields and the rough hills, pondering the whys and whereabouts of life, but overall how Sherlock could have just gone, unnoticed by everyone. James Moriarty was clearly behind all this, there was no other way of explaining it. Sherlock wouldn't just leave, would he?

A not so gentle breeze blew into John's face as powerfully as it could, leaving him back cold. The leaves whirled around the air as if they were waves in an enormous ocean and the sky was grey with contempt. He wished he could will it all away.

But then, completely out of the blue, John saw a silver object glittering in the mud. When getting closer, he noticed that it was a DVD or CD of sorts, looking just as if it were made to be found by John. And, once he had scratched the surface free of mud, he saw the inscription: _Yours Sincerely, John._ Curious.

Maybe he should go get back and have a closer look at it.

* * *

Kristen looked up at Moriarty, smiling a devilish grin. "Good job." Her master patted her. "You're allowed to speak freely now, you seem to have something on your mind."

"Oh, yes, Jim-."

"Moriarty! How often do I have to repeat that?"

"Yes, sir, Moriarty. Does Greg know yet?"

"No, he does not. But when he does memorize it, you know what we will make him believe, don't you Kris'?" He growled.

"Yes, sir. Exactly. " They nodded curtly in unison.

* * *

"John?"

"Yes, David?"

"I can't hold it together anymore, I have to tell you, I can't, I just-"

"Take a breath, David, everything's fine."

"No, it's not! It's not okay."

"That just sounded like a scarily accurate impression of me." John realized, smiling aside from himself.

"What? Anyway, I have got so much to tell you, I don't know where to start from-?"

"The beginning?" John tried to help out.

"There is no beginning and there seems to be no end either." David sighed. "Well..." He said tears forming in his eyes.

"David?"

"I just can't- lie anymore, do you understand?" David said, his brown eyes losing complete control of their shape and watering ever so slightly.

John nodded. "I think I know what you're talking about."

"You do?"

"Raphael. You haven't seen him do it, have you?"

"Yes, where did you-? But I can't say it-I can't confess, he would hurt me, he would-."

"No, he wouldn't, he would be behind bars before he could lay a finger on you- don't you see? You have to!"

"Do you really think so? Should I just speak to him, tell them that this has all been a lie?"

"Yes, yes you should! And quickly so, so hurry up!"

It seemed there was still some hope left. Maybe this wouldn't end up in chaos, for once.

* * *

John put the CD into the player, happy about the fact that it was almost completely unharmed and about no scratch visible on the surface. He was in a darker, more silent and hidden away room, the one for the washing up, which admittedly wasn't used much. You could smell it in the air.

He pressed on play.

"_Hello, John." _A distorted voice came out of the little radio, its sound almost wounding and unrecognizable. _"Who do you think it is?" _The room was filled with silence until it was broken by an atrocious laughter. _"Not, Sherlock. Doofus."_

"_But as we are just enjoying us with that topic, let's see how our little Sherlock is, eh?"_

You could hear a "bang" and a suppressed whimper. "_The little sod has just tried to escape us, hasn't he? – Say, something Sherlock."_

He didn't reply_. "Well, then I will make you- although you have already had enough of me, haven't you?"_

"_Yes-s, I ha-v-"_

John gulped; this truly was the voice of Sherlock Holmes. Silence filled the room another time.

"_John, listen to me closely now and no one will be harmed_."

John nodded, although he knew the CD couldn't see.

"_Good. Now, if anyone hears of me having done anything, if anyone finds out anything, this little fucker here will get what he deserves!"_

Get what he deserves? Does that mean he would-?

"_Yes, I would kill him, idiot."_

A sudden wave of panic flooded him.

"_You have to make everyone believe that Raphael's the true killer, if you fail he will die."_

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"_Goodbye, John_." He laughed.

John knew who exactly who this was, but still he couldn't do anything against it.

_David had to be stopped. _


	16. Chapter 16: black and white

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. Usually I'd try to insert something funny in here, but hey! You'll have to bear without one time. :)**

**Hello again, everybody! I'm so, so sorry for not updating on wednesday! I just didn't feel too good yesterday, couldn't concentrate and had headaches all over. I hope you aren't mad at me now. :/ **

**Please tell me what you think about this little piece of fanfiction, I would be very much delighted!**

**And good lord, thank you for all the reviews! I'm so, so happy about them! Without them this fanfiction would most likely not exist anymore, so thank you so, so much for all your help!**

**Hint: Surprise, surprise, I'm finishing the chapter off with another cliffhanger. God, I love those. :)**

* * *

John hurried out of the room, paying absolutely no attention to what or rather to whom he was walking into or forcing onto the cold ground. It didn't matter.

All that did was Sherlock, Sherlock. He couldn't die; he couldn't just leave him like this. Sherlock had to stay alive, to breathe. This was their only way.

He could try phoning the police, but Sherlock would be dead long before the phone went off. And anyhow, the police couldn't be trusted on this matter. Complicated as it was, it was more than enough to be going on with. John didn't need more incompetent people to maximize his confusion.

When he finally reached David, he was completely out of breath. But it seemed he was already too late.

"Yes, a-am I right here? I have a confession to make, please hurry up." David begged into the phone, looking as if he had just eaten his elder brother's chocolate and now felt very guilty about it.

"David, you can't-." John interrupted.

"Yes, sorry, someone here is interrupting- yes I know, I'm sorry." David said, putting the phone on hold.

"David, you can't do this, you'll-"

"What?"

"You shouldn't do this, Moriarty will get to you- I know it!" John said agitatedly.

"You just told me, yourself, that I should, I won't just break-!"

"But I heard him say that-,"

"It doesn't matter what he said!"

"But-"

"I will do this, regardless of what you or anyone else will say, understood?" David said, turning on the phone once more. "Yes, sorry. What did you say?"

John didn't know what to do, but somehow he did. He knew that this was beyond bad, but what else was there to do except waiting for Sherlock's certain death?

"David?" John said, a remorseful look on his face.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry, so sorry." John shook his head.

"Hey, that's my l-"

It appeared like David wouldn't be able to speak any further. John blinked at his victim. What did James Moriarty do to them all?

* * *

Sherlock woke up to loud voices, rattling on about this and that, but mostly about murder. He wasn't able to open his eyes as a bandage covered up most of them.

His body was the absolute opposite, covered up in nothing else than nothing. It was cold in the room and everything that Sherlock felt was freezing, everlasting pain. It wouldn't do him any good to think about something else to distract him, since there was nothing of the sort.

Two people entered the room, one of them obviously James Moriarty and the other a female, but no one Sherlock could clearly identify.

"-and how are things going with David?"

"Better than expected, actually. Due to the boyfriend of that idiot lying down there. Do you know him?" Said the one masculine voice, pointing at Sherlock from a distance. He shouldn't pollute himself with the blood or sweat of an imbecile.

He walked up to Sherlock, ripping off the bandage, fingers twitching at the touch, freeing Sherlock's eyes. Just to let him into the sight of James Moriarty and-

"Actually, I do."

"Do you now?"

The girl circled around Sherlock, soon coming to a rest and crouch down at the corpse-like body, concern written over her features.

"'Lock?" She said, the warmth in her voice mixed with worry.

"Yes-s?" Sherlock said, happy about the mention of his childhood's nickname.

"I never thought I would see you like this." She shook her head.

"What? Irene? I thought- yo-u were dead?"

"I'm never dead if one my older brothers need looking after." She said, notching at Sherlock's ear affectionately.

"I know." He said. The warmth in his eyes obvious to every human being in the possession of eye-balls.

"We have to get him out of here!" Irene said, directing her phrase at James.

"What, Irene? I need him here, he's my hostage!"

"Hostage or not, he's my brother!" She stood up.

"Don't get snappy with me, alright? I could kill you in a millisecond." James stated.

"I would kill you first!" She growled.

"Brothers and sisters." Moriarty huffed. "Don't come in with sentiment, I now you don't own much."

"I was ordered here to do this one job for you, kill your hostage if the blonde one fails, but I won't kill my brother!"

"Oh, yes you will."

* * *

John drew in a deep breath, looking at the assembly hall from a short distance. He would need to go in there right now and pretend as if nothing had ever happened, a mission predestined to fail, considering David, who was at the time tied up to a chair. By John's own hands.

John couldn't believe he was capable of such things, but apparently he was. At least he didn't have to go as far as killing David, although he would have done if he had been told to. This was what scared him the most. He would do anything, anything at all if it was only for Sherlock Holmes.

He glanced over at the door-handle once more before entering the hall. This would be fun.

A wolf hidden under the skin of a sheep.

* * *

John had survived the meet up of the class without a single scratch visible on the surface. But inside he was a mess.

Nonetheless, John was free as it seemed. Everybody believed him that David had just laid down for a bit, as they had all seen David's distress. One didn't need to be Sherlock Holmes to notice that.

Sherlock Holmes. How much he would do to see him again. How much he had already done.

"John? John-?" Mrs. Hudson asked, looking concerned. "You seemed a little bit- how to put it- off today, everything fine?"

"No it's not, how could it? Sherlock is off and I have just kind of kidnapped Da-." John stopped dead, becoming aware of what he had just said. Daft, stupid, dense.

"What did you just say?"

"That-erm that I piggy-backed David?"

"Aha?" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, looking slightly put off. "Anyway, I'll be having to have a snoop around your room, well, the police will, actually. They've recently arrived and are only waiting for your permission, so?"

"Yes, of cour-." The world circled and John blinked perplexedly. "Wait- no, NO! You can't-!" John exclaimed.

"Why not?"

"It looks terrible in there, Sherlock has made a right-out mess and-"

"Don't you worry, boy." Mrs. Hudson cut him off, laughing heartily.

"But the mess is dreadful, they can't-"

Mrs. Hudson just shook her head and went off with a smile on her face. The youth of today.

John was terrified.

What if they found David now? Why didn't he think of somewhere else to hide him? Nothing ever went the way it should.


	17. Chapter 17: pigs and ponies

**Disclaimer: Moffat must be laughing at me right now...**

**Hello, my lovelies! I just finished this chapter and will hopefully get some sleep soon, 'cause lord I'm tired! It's a bit touchy-feely this chapter, but hey! I hope you are going to enjoy it anyway! :P**

**Thank you for all the loads of nice reviews, I literally can't thank you enough! You motivate me so much that I'd still be writing this if I were a zombie. Under every condition. **

**And thank you DemSherlockFeels for being able to bare me for, what, 40 pms now? It's been a pleasure. :) **

* * *

John ran across the fields to find anywhere to hide, anywhere at all to get away from these bastards that called themselves the police. He could have just played as if it was coincidence that David was tied up. He must have fallen into the ropes somehow; John didn't know how it happened either. And especially not in _his_ room, _he_ would never hurt a fly. But not even the police were that daft.

They must have found out by now, they must have. It didn't need a detective to figure out that there was a teenage boy trapped in the bathroom, even if said boy was unable to speak due to Sherlock's scarf.

Shit, Sherlock. What-? No, they couldn't, they couldn't-

John stopped his running, standing still in the middle of the field. Visible, but not giving it a thought. The small boy took his head into his hands; it was all really his fault. Sherlock would die, merely because he had failed. Sherlock.

What would they do to Sherlock now? Would he die? No, no, no, no. He couldn't die, he couldn't leave John alone.

I love you.

What he would give to say that to Sherlock another time. To look Sherlock into his deep blue eyes, ruffle his hair again, feel. He wouldn't feel anymore if Sherlock died. He knew.

He wouldn't be able to see Sherlock again, ever. No smart-arse on the world could come close to Sherlock. No one could make up for the loss. Sherlock.

And this was the moment when John gave in. It didn't make sense anymore. Anything.

John just continued standing there, opening his arms widely in welcome. Let them come, he didn't care. Nothing mattered if it weren't for Sherlock Holmes. John could die on the spot.

* * *

James Moriarty propped up Sherlock, even making him comfortable enough to sit and have a glass of water. Sherlock was aching for liquid, no matter of what consistence, he would have drunk poison.

Nevertheless, water wasn't the only thing he was aching for. He was pulsing for John, any part of him. Feel the warmth again. His smile. The way he rolled his eyes at Sherlock when saying something stupid. His giggle. It felt like they had known each other for centuries.

Sherlock shook his head; this would only hurt him further.

James Moriarty giggled cheerfully. Preparing the pig for slaughter.

* * *

Greg opened his eyes to the welcoming sight of blank, white nothings and the pleasure of a few withered flowers standing in a vase filled with yellow water, which looked as if it had been used for urine samples.

A fun day ahead.

To Greg's surprise Kristen entered the room, looking stoic as ever. Her hair was coloured pink, but not a shade anyone would enjoy. Not even little girls who fancied ponies, unicorns and loved princesses over everything else.

Her skin was pale and there were bags under her eyes, but she still tried to convey her face in a smile.

"Hello, Gregory, are we feeling better today?" She asked, snorting.

"Yes,_ I_ am." He answered, thereby trying to cut off the conversation. With no real success.

"I just wanted to ask you, what do you remember about the incident?"

"What incident?"

"Oh, you know. I thought the police would've gone to you earlier to ask for some leads, or something?" Her blue eyes flickered.

Greg shrugged in an 'I'm only a student, I don't need physics and I certainly don't have an answer for you'- kind of way and then shook his head.

"No, sorry. Don't know a thing."

She released a breath through her nostrils. "Oh, you don't?" She said, trying to feign concern but the smile on her face far too evident. "Don't you remember about Raphael?"

"No?"

"He raped you." She said, staring Greg dead in the eyes.

* * *

"John Watson, we hereby arrest you under the convictions of lying to, hurting and kidnapping David McTennant." One police man said, the handcuffs rustling in his enormous hands, no place to hide. "You may take your hands down now."

Nonetheless John didn't. He didn't want to so he just didn't do it. Life can be so easy.

"Erm, I told you to put your hands down?" The police officer said cautiously. "Can't you-?"

He was cut off by a hug, almost trembling to the ground. This boy had gone completely mental.

* * *

Irene looked her brother into the eyes one more time, before whispering silent sorrys and goodbyes. She kissed him on the wet forehead. A single tear fell out of her eye onto Sherlock's chest losing itself in the mass of blood and sweat.

Life wasn't fair, but what could you expect from James Moriarty? There was one virtue Moriarty possessed; he would always stay true to his word. And he would do so without any lament.

James fetched the gun with a spring in his steps.

Irene cried.

And Sherlock waited for his death.

Would it hurt?


	18. Chapter 18: strings of time

**Disclaimer: I own myself, yay! And that's about as much as I own in total. Life is sad.**

**Hello, everybody! Once again I present you with a little chapter. It's been a lot of fun to write this one, please tell me what you think! Thanks!**

**Also tonnes of hugs for all the nice reviews, favourites and followers I recieved. Every one of you means a lot to me. **

**And no this isn't the end of the story. I will carry this on, some way or another. :P**

* * *

"And then he-, what?" Kristen asked, looking at Greg in a puzzled fashion.

Greg tried to stand up, wanting to leave the room in any way possible just to free himself of that irritating girl. He still hurt like hell and was attached to as many tubes and catheters as imaginable, but anything was better than having to spend one more minute in the presence of that...

Calm yourself, no swear-words. He thought to himself, the heat and disgust still bubbling under the surface.

"Wha- What are you doing Greg?"

"Leaving." He said, smiling a smile as feigned as hers.

* * *

James Moriarty handed over the gun to Irene, his steady hands in stark contrast to Irene's trembling ones. Since she had met Moriarty she had felt unsteady around him, he was however the only reason she was still alive. He had been the one to save her.

She took the weapon with disgust written all over her face. Disgust at what she was going to do.

* * *

Raphael stood still in his cell, staring at the ceiling in the dark. Or rather the dark places in his heart.

The case was still running, but it was evident to everyone already, that Raphael was the offender. Nonetheless that didn't make Raphael less confused who was on his side or not. What was David's role in this? Did Sherlock still want to help him? And where had they been all this time?

Well, who was Raphael to tell? He was the villain in this game, the one no one trusted and no one cared for.

* * *

"Justin?" Kristen asked flirtatiously. "What have you been doing all day long? So alone, no one by your side?"

"Well, you know this and that. Killed someone, you know."

"Oh, who had the pleasure?"

"You. Inside my head. You failed."He cleared his throat. "But I don't know if my head is going to be the only place you will be dead at. Master isn't happy."

* * *

Irene held the gun in her hand, her only way of survival and death in front of her in form of Sherlock Holmes, her aim. She didn't know what would happen if she pulled the trigger. She would survive, she knew. But one part of her would die. Completely.

"What if I don't pull the trigger?" She asked nervously. So unsure.

"You both would die." He chuckled. "What do you reckon is better?"

"This."

* * *

John grinned, his cell a welcome place of peace and quiet. He wouldn't want to be anywhere else. The wall had such a nice colour. Or such nice colours. They all collided, making up funny forms and lines, which danced through the room.

He laughed. Sherlock waved at him through the wall, smiling his all too well known crooked smile, a balloon in his hands.

John wasn't alone anymore.

* * *

"Can you declare all this as true?" The judge asked.

"No." David gulped. "I must confess, I- I lied." He said searching for Raphael's eyes.

"Nothing I said spoke the truth. He didn't do it. I didn't see anything. Every detail I made up was unreal. I-lied." He sighed, it was out, finally.

The judge stared at David, not believing his ears. "Are you quite sure?"

"Yes."

"You know that we are able to sue you for this?"

"Yes. It doesn't matter now. It's out." David breathed out grinning at Raphael.

Raphael didn't know what to say. And he didn't know what to think. All he did was cry, unsure whether they were tears of sorrow or of happiness.

* * *

Everything stopped. The water stopped flowing down the mouldy walls. The air stopped stirring, the leaves stopped dropping and life stopped living. For this one moment, no one moved.

Nothing except for the trigger which had been pulled.

* * *

"John?" David asked entering the cell with disapproval.

"Who is it?" John howled, looking the worst he had ever done since David knew him. But well, they didn't know each other for too long.

"It's me, David." He said, starting to shuffle a bit closer to John's huddled form. The police man was nearby. He was safe. "Hello."

"David-? What in god's name are you-? Oh, oh, no."

"What are you talking about?"

"You shouldn't be here, they will get you soon! Have you told them? Do they know?" John said exasperatedly.

"Yes, why?"

John cried out in pain. "Sherlock, he- he's dead." He shook his head. "And I killed him."


	19. Chapter 19: pas des problemes

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, I don't. Don't ever let me repeat that again. :'(**

**Hello wonderful people from yet unknown lands! Sorry for not updating yesterday, but we had some technical issues once again. However, I changed a few things in this chapter so the outcome of today may be better than it would have been yesterday. Sorry!**

**And I'm sorry _again_, but I don't think I will be able to update as often as I did in the last weeks, since school is being horrible and there are so many exams and ugh...**

**Sorry, rant over. :)**

**I hope you will enjoy this chapter and have some fun times with it. Please review and tell me what you think, I'd love you for it! (by the way, I already love all my reviewers and followers and favouriters :D)**

* * *

A body dropped to the floor, its knees buckling up, landing on the rough ground with a crash. A single drop of sweat fell from his forehead for the very last time. And Irene stood there, the gun still shaking in her hands.

She couldn't believe she had finally done this, finally and for real this time. She had killed him, all the suffering gone. She had killed James Moriarty.

Why was she so happy that he was gone? Irene gulped; she had taken pleasure in this act, hadn't she? But well, one did if one's brother had been threatened to be killed and tortured by said man.

Sherlock stared at Irene, his eyes wide open in shock.

"You? I thought-?" Sherlock shook his head. "I can't-."

Irene looked up at him, smiling a somewhat uncertain smile. "I had to, don't you understand-?"

"Don't touch me!" Sherlock exclaimed, backing away from Irene's shivering fingers.

"I'd do anything for my brothers, anything at all." She said, now reaching him at last and laying her head on his chest. "I couldn't have seen you die, don't you understand?"

Sherlock mustered her fairly suspiciously, but then let her rest in her position. "I understand, I'm just so-."

"Shush!" Irene shushed him, smiling up at him weakly, but a tear loosening itself out of the corner of her eye. "Everything's alright."

"But, what are you going to do? Now that you killed-him" He said, pointing at the inanimate object on the floor. "You'll get into prison, imprisoned, don't you see-?"

"Everything's alright." She repeated, not quite sure about it herself. Nothing really mattered anymore; she would get through, somehow.

"I love you." Sherlock said, kissing her on the forehead.

"I know." She stuttered. "Now go. They will bring order in this mess again."

"They? What mess?" Sherlock asked, being pushed away by Irene, so that at least he could escape.

"Goodbye, Sherlock." She cried, the tears streaming down her face unstoppably now. "See you soon."

"What-?" Sherlock asked, but was shoved out of the door, so the lack of answer was logical.

The last thing he heard Irene say was 'Run!'

And then Sherlock ran. Ran, ran, ran as fast as he could. He was fortunate that James's accomplices took a break at the moment, but it wouldn't last any longer than 2 minutes, if one was lucky. Which one wasn't.

Three minutes later, standing outside the building, he heard a shot.

* * *

Greg lay down in bed once more, finally freed from that monster which called itself 'Kristen'. Greg normally counted himself as one of the calmer and relaxed persons on this world, but anyone's patience ended with Kristen.

He had had a strange feeling about her from the very beginning, but now that she had started to talk in every tiny detail about his raping, his disgust was final.

Surprisingly, Greg didn't feel like he had been raped. He didn't have any memories of the event and he just felt like it was a story of something that happened to someone else. Not himself, that couldn't ever happen, could it?

Nothing ever happened to him and it should stay that way.

* * *

David looked at the judge through brainy specs, his face glowing with confidence. Raphael stood by his side and took David's hand without hesitance, needing to be reassured.

"So, you're off then." The bulldog-built judge said, glaring down at the pair. "You're dismissed, off you pop."

Raphael grinned, his features suddenly lightening up. He was free.

"If I am to interfere." A raspy voice said, the edges shaky.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes, didn't see that coming did you?" Sherlock asked, his hair dishevelled and his clothes practically non-existent, only wrapped up in a dirty sheet, which had once been white. "Good thing I can coordinate."

A cry sounded through the room and you could see John mingling through the police, getting free of these idiots. "Sherlock!"

An officer tried to stop John, but John still fought his way through the masses of people, only to see him again. Was this a hallucination? "Sherlock!"

Before Sherlock could answer, he was cut off in a rather wild hug, by no one other than John himself.

"John- I-" Sherlock said, his emotions getting their way with him.

"You're alive." John cried out. "You're real, you live." He sputtered.

"Of course I am. I always will be, for you." Sherlock smiled. "And I will stay."

"I thought you were, you were dead. Why aren't you?"

"Would you rather?" Sherlock asked.

The whole room stood silent, gaping at the two confusedly. Only John broke out into a fit of giggles. "You moron." He said, wrapping himself up in Sherlock's sheet. "Everyone in this room will think we are gay."

"Which we are." Sherlock replied, getting comfy with John's warmth around him again, finally. "I missed you."

"Me too."

The judge stared down at them judgingly. "If you could lead us through, please?"

"Lead you through?"

"Tell us why you are here. What did you want to do?"

"Oh, I basically merely came for that one there." He said, pointing at John. "But while I'm here, I could help you a little with the case, you know." He coughed. "If you don't mind."

"Sure."


	20. Chapter 20: the end of an aera

**Disclaimer: I own me some tea.**

**Hello, lovelies! This chapter is a lot longer than originally anticipated! But as it may or may not be the final chapter, it has its reasons. Please tell me what you think and whether or not I should write another chapter. Thanks a lot!**

**I'm ill at the moment, so the fact that I wrote great parts of this yesterday has done me some good. If I am to write another chapter then please have patience with me. In this state I am a bit very not good at writing. **

**Well, as always and maybe for the last time: enjoy reading! I hope you had a nice day and please review. I love me some reviews. **

* * *

David grinned at the ball of white, curls and John and then gave the judge an approving nod. "I think he can take over for now, he knows more about it than I do. And he wasn't even involved."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that if I were you." Sherlock replied, his face going into the 'don't interrupt me, I'm busy thinking'-state and merely just noticing that he had said that out aloud.

"Wait, what are you trying to imply with this?" The judge interrupted, his face red as a pig's and his temper at the moment likewise. This was all too confusing to get into one head.

"I was involved. Pretty obvious, wasn't it?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh, no, no of course not. I-" The judge stammered, baffled to no end. Bizarre guy- whoever that Sherlock-kid was.

"If you could please carry on? It's your job to get the conversation going and not me." Sherly said, no fraction of his face giving any sign of empathy. A thing one really needed when talking to this man.

The judge didn't answer and spit out his imaginary coffee instead in bewilderment.

"Ah, I can see. You didn't intend for this job, did you?" Sherlock said, his eyes as cold as ice.

"No, I didn't- how did you-?"

"Look at yourself. Your appearance and manners say everything about your intellect. Now, let's get back down to business." Sherlock said, freeing himself a little out of their position, much to the smaller one's disapproval.

On the other side of the room sat Greg, clearly following the conversation and had been trying to follow the whole case, but still didn't really know as to what had happened, or how it had happened. Furthermore he didn't even know who had done it and why, which added up a lot to his confusion.

What had happened at all? Greg couldn't muster.

Sherlock was talking to the judge at the present, but Greg wasn't able to single out a word. Nor was he able to understand a syllable.

"Uhm, I'm sorry to interrupt, but- could someone please tell me what's going on? I don't have a clue."

Sherlock rolled his eyes for an eternity and then said: "Well, we were just talking about clues. If you were to pay attention, we would be a lot quicker."

"Help me then." Greg said helplessly, the ground the most fitting place to look at.

"You aren't even allowed to disr-." The judge tried to interfere but Sherlock cut him off with an icy glare.

"Alright, shall we begin?" Sherlock said, waiting for the judge's authorization. The judge simply nodded reluctantly.

And then Sherlock's mind opened up, willing to show off the pictures it held.

* * *

Justin and Kristen blinked, slightly confused and disapproving of the situation. "Wait, what-? What did you just do that for?" Justin asked which was followed by Kristen's snarl. "You didn't have to fire it, you know; it will most likely destroy the tapestry."

Irene smiled. "Wouldn't want my brother to think that I was still alive. Good job, you guys." She praised her handlers, trying to lead the conversation onto another topic.

"But was this really necessary?" Kristen asked her boss.

"Yes it was, could be dangerous for him to know. It would only get him into further trouble." Irene answered and smiled sadly. "And this is my only way to stay free. Anyway, let's leave, quickly."

* * *

"... so, in the beginning we have Greg here, right?" Sherlock asked. "And we too have a bloodied handkerchief, found in Raphael's luggage, which was originally-"

"-From James Moriarty." David finished off. "I found it in his luggage and then wanted to steal it off of him, as evidence, but- well, he noticed." David cleared his throat.

"Thank you, David." Sherlock nodded. "James Moriarty puts the handkerchief in Raphael's luggage, so that the he isn't going to be suspected. Afterwards, James presents David with a sort of ultimatum. He bullies David into thinking that there is no other way than staying and lying. And so, with no way of escape in sight, he does."

"He is near to confessing several times, but the thought of Moriarty always holds him back." Sherlock carried on. "And that's where I come in: I knew there was something foul about James from the very beginning and found everything out quite quickly, obviously. Nonetheless Moriarty noticed and then wanted me out of the way, which he did."

"And from that part John can take over." Sherlock finished off, looking over at John attentively.

Silence.

"John, that was a hint."

"Oh, uhm, yeah. What am I supposed to do?" John asked, still lulled in from the happiness and warmth that came out of the taller boy's direction.

"Tell your part of the story?" Sherlock suggested, or rather demanded.

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Well, Sherlock and I got together and became boyfriends, or whatever we may call us."

"Partners in crime." Sherlock proposed and smiled.

"Well, partners in crime then." John smiled in return. "And Moriarty noticed my soft spot. By then David had told me everything about his lies, so Moriarty wanted to keep me silent. Which he did quite effectively. He kidnapped Sherlock and then-."

"Wait, are you that kid which has been lost?" One lawyer asked.

"Language, please." Sherlock chastised. "And yes, I am that kid which has been lost. Sherlock Holmes (not so very much) at your service. And yes, count yourself lucky that I solved two cases at once for you." He said, directing his last phrase at the judge.

"But, how did you get out?" The judge replied.

"My sister."

"What, your sister, I thought she was dead?" John enquired.

"Me too." Sherlock sighed. "She wasn't dead at the time of my kidnapping, but she is now."

John didn't take much time to consider his next action, he just did. John stretched out his hands in Sherlock's direction. Seeking and finding, he took Sherlock's hand and squeezed it tight as if to say 'I'll never let you go'. This one hand was enough for Sherlock to recollect his strength.

"She was shot dead by Moriarty's accomplices, Kristen and Justin. As far as I can gather."

"And she helped you escape?"

Sherlock made a Duh!-face. "Naturally, she did. 85% of siblings who are-"

"Sherlock, no one here cares about your statistics." John shushed him.

"Well, I wouldn't say so, would you?" Sherlock said into the room, waiting for a reaction.

The only response he got was a woman coughing off the awkwardness.

"See?" John triumphed, all smugness.

"I hate you." Sherlock sneered.

"I've got proof that you don't." John grinned.

"That is-?" Sherlock asked but was this time interrupted by one of the lawyers.

"Uhm, could you please carry on-?"

"If I have to-. We have got proof aka witnesses that James Moriarty has done this and furthermore we even have a recording." Sherlock answered.

"A recording?"

"Yes, James Moriarty may have been clever, but he wasn't clever in laying my mobile phone only so far away from me. And as the smart person I am I recorded. By far enough to convict them."

"Where are they all right now?"

"Oh, I can't tell except for one of them: James Moriarty is in the lands of the dead at present. Brought and guided there by my lovely sister, who also resides there now. She couldn't see me dead."

"What evidence do you have for both their deaths?"

"We can go there if you want to. Not far from here."Sherlock gulped. This was enough ballast for a century. He didn't want to talk about his sister's death all day long.

"James Moriarty only ever wanted to humiliate Gregory. That was the reason for his raping. The only reason you were so badly off-"Sherlock said, averting his gaze to Gregory now. "-was to get you away from David. He feared you may endanger his prey to get attached elsewhere."

"Alright, thank you Mr. Holmes." The judge nodded. "You may now seat yourself." He took a look around the room. "The case is almost closed, the next and final step will be to search for the accomplices of James Moriarty. If you know anything of the whereabouts..."

Sherlock zoomed out and blinked at Greg curtly. Greg smiled and nodded, finding comfort in the fact that at least his major offender was dead.

* * *

Sherlock and John stood outside the building holding hands. Another day's work completed.

The rain pattered down the street in a comfy rhythm.

"It's nice that they have just let me go, now that they know the whole story." John said. "David doesn't seem to be mad at me and the judge has left me free of charges."

"Naturally they did. And if they hadn't I would have made them do so, whatever the costs."

John laughed.

"Thank you for coming back to me. I wouldn't have made it without you."

"Yes, yes, I know. David told me you had gone all nuts already."

"Hey!"

"Well, my, my, a little crackers, are we today?"

"Oh shut up."

Sherlock beamed up at the grey sky.

"John, I have got a question."

"Yes?"

"What proof _do_ you have that I don't hate you?"

"Well, let me see." John said, grabbing Sherlock close. "This."

And so they kissed, not passionately, greedy or needy. They just kissed. They needed nothing more. Slowly and long.

Until the sky went blue again and the sun finally came out another time.

* * *

Greg tried to find his way down the stairs, but the voyage proved itself difficult. That was until a certain someone tapped his shoulder.

"Hey." David exclaimed awkwardly. "May I help you?"

"Of course, if you don't mind?"

"Sure." David answered, preparing himself for the long way down and what he was about to say.

"Uh, Greg. I hope this won't make things awkward between us?" David asked, unsure of himself.

"What are you referring to?"

"Oh, you know the whole story-."

"Oh, it won't be easy, but I will do." Greg searched for words. "I would maybe be even stronger if I had you...?"

"What? Oh. Oh? Do you mean we still could-?"

"Yes." Greg said, smiling at David.

"Wow. That was fast. I thought you would have some problems with-"

"Keeping you? I rather doubt that. I wouldn't have anyone else on this planet."

David sighed happily. Who knew that being perfectly content could only take a minute?

"Uh, David could you please help me down the stairs now?"

* * *

**Should I continue this story or shouldn't I? Your choice. :)  
**


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